Lillyesque
by Nixi Stasia
Summary: I've led a long and happy life. Well, mostly. There have been some terribly dark times during the course of my existence, but I suppose that's what makes the good even better. These are the things that I can remember. I hope these enterain you.
1. Dear Children

Children,

I'm growing old now and the stories that I now tell you may be different from what they originally were. My memory isn't what it used to be, you see.

I've led a long and happy life. Well, mostly. There have been some terribly dark times during the course of my existence, but I suppose that's what makes the good even better. I have had three beautiful children and been blessed with one charming granddaughter. I had a loving and caring husband and a protective Father also.

These are the things that I can remember. And believe me, I can remember a lot more than I'm aware. Sometimes, I will just be lying in bed or drinking a cup of tea and I'll suddenly remember something that happened years ago. Then of course, there are the things that I can never forget. And unfortunately, those things tend to be the things I wish I could forget.

I know I don't have long left, which is why I have decided to write down all my memories that I either couldn't bear to tell you in person, or never found the time. Though I do have to admit, this seems very strange. I'm only fifty-nine, yet I know that within a year, I'll be gone. This time next year, your life's will still go on, though mine will have stopped. That's another reason, I suppose, why I've written this. It sounds self-centered to say that I know you'll be devastated when I'm gone, but I know it's the truth. Maybe when you raed this (that will be after I'm gone) who may remember some of these events, whatever the importance of them.

Maybe you'll even remember some that I've forgotten and write them down in here?

I hope these entertain you.

All my love,

Your Mother x

Lillian-Marie Rebecca Dove


	2. Bedtime Stories

**AN: Before I get on with the story, I have to say this: I am absolutely astounded at the amount of reviews I have been getting from this story! 15 reviews in two chapters? And it's all about an OC! I am so happy with all of you wonderful people who have reviewed! Oh, and 112 hits! Whoo! :)**

**I also need to apologise to my best friend, who I love to bits, Chloe (Aka, ChloeCullenVolturi) I should have included or at least mentioned her in the previous chapter, Chloe, hun, I am so sorry and I will make it up to you!**

**The requests have also been amazing, but this one is from MikuLover! I will do all of the requests given, in order they were given! I will do a request, then one of mine.**

Bedtime Stories

_4 Years Old_

I peeked my head around the living room door, looking shyly at Mummy. She sat at the table rummaging through pieces of paper and writing things down every now and then. This was what she did every night- being an adult must be so boring! All Mummy and Daddy both did, every night was sit there and write and work. Boring!

"Mummy?" I called, softly from the doorway.

She turned, sharply and looked towards the doorway, where I stood. A small, tired, smile spread across her face as she saw me.

"Hello poppet," Mummy smiled, beckoning for me to come over to her.

Quietly, I plodded over to the table and Mummy lifted me onto her lap. Lovingly, she nestled her face on my shoulder, her auburn hair tickling my neck. She clasped her hands around me and I cuddled up to her. She began swaying, gently.

"Where's Daddy?" I asked, in a whisper.

"He's gone out with Uncle Clark," she replied," He'll be back soon."

"Where have they gone?" I wondered aloud.

"To play billiards," Mummy answered.

I sighed and turned around and cuddled up to Mummy. I was always close with her. Uncle Clark said I was a 'Mummy's girl', whatever that is.

"Well, someone's certainly very cuddly tonight," Mummy chuckled," What are you doing up anyway? It's gone ten o'clock."

I shrugged and yawned. Big mistake.

"And that somebody also seems very tired," Mummy remarked.

"No, I'm not tired," I protested, breathing in, to hold in a yawn.

"Why don't we take you back up to bed, darling?" Mummy asked, but I don't think she wanted an answer.

It was best not to argue. She was already tired- I could tell because her eyes were like panda's- and if she got cross, she still would be in the morning. Then, if Mummy was upset, Daddy would be too. And when both of them are cross, it's horrible. It's all 'Lillian, don't do that' and 'Lillian, don't be silly.' It's horrible.

I hopped off her lap, my purple night gown flapping around and Mummy got up off the chair and stretched.

"Come on then, princess," Mum yawned, pushing me slightly on the back to encourage me to walk.

I skipped across the hallway of the flat and into my bedroom. The only bit of light was coming from outside, from the street lamps. It made my cream coloured curtains seem orange, or a dark yellow. I couldn't see many other things, it was too dark. Not even the lilac walls, or the toys and teddies spread out across the room. Mummy and Daddy had both told me to clean my room many times, but everytime I did it always got messy again the next day.

I clambered into my bed, and slid under the cotton sheets. Mummy switched on the night light and pictures of stars began to glow and twirl around the room, spreading around short glimpses of light.

"Now why weren't you asleep?" Mummy asked, sitting down next to me on my bed, putting her feet up, so they were sort of next to mine. Just a bit longer.

"Because... I couldn't sleep," I grizzled.

"Why not?"

I shrugged. Then thought for a few moments.

"Mummy?" I whispered.

"Yes, Lillian," she replied.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can indeed."

"How did you and Daddy meet?"

"Hmm," she chuckled.

"What's funny?" I asked, turning to face her, probably throwing a few soft toys off the bed too. Accidentally of course.

"Oh, nothing much," Mummy answered," I just thought I'd told you before. And it's not something I think about much."

"Tell me!" I pleaded.

I jumped slightly and the bed shook. My hands clapped together and almost immediately, Mummy put her hands around mine, to keep them still.

"We don't want to wake downstairs up, do we now?" Mum told me off.

I sat back, annoyed. I don't like the people who live downstairs very much. They're in university, like both Mummy and Daddy. They're always playing loud music and smoking and drinking, though. Why should I care about waking them up? They wake me up all the time, much later than ten o'clock! Mummy and Daddy are much more polite, though. And smarter, they're doing something called a PhD, whereas the people downstairs are just doing stupid art!

I shook my head, bitterly.

"How about, I will tell you the story if you go back to sleep afterwards," Mum compromised.

"Ok," I agreed.

"So, it was my first day at university. I didn't know anyone and I was very nervous," Mum began," After I'd had my first class, I went down to the lunch hall and was looking for a place to sit..."

"Mummy?" I interrupted.

"Yes."

"This is boring," I remarked.

She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, in frustration. Whoops, I shouldn't have said that.

"Lillian," Mummy said, sternly.

"Hmm," I murmured.

"Go to sleep."

It wasn't the best time to argue. If I left things now, and went to sleep, hopefully Mummy wouldn't be cross and grumpy in the morning. I nodded, lay down and closed my eyes. I felt the bed bounce as Mummy got up and I heard her footsteps leave the room, just after there was a click from my night light, being switched off.

The stars on the wall disappeared and the room turned dark. Soon, I too was asleep dreaming about the stars.

**AN: Ok, so that wasn't that good. I'm currently addicted to Avicii so thanks to Angel of Goddesses for recommended them to me. It's her fault this chapters rubbish. **

**Oh, and before I forget, read 'Angel of Goddesses'' story. It's really good! (She's making me advertise!) But yeah, it is very good. **


	3. A Father's Love

**AN: So, I want to do this. Really bad. It's set just after Eternal Diva and is basically Lilly and the Professor having a talk. And Father/Daughter moments, because I love them.**

**Oh, and yes, I changed my name to Onika Layton!**

A Father's Love

_14 Years Old_

Dad pulled the car to a stop, in the driveway of our small house, situated in Gressenheller, near the University. I skidded across the seats in the back row of the car and let myself out of the door. I jumped out of the car and tripped over the gravel, that paved the driveway. Luckily, Dad had just gotten out of car too, he took hold of my arm and caught me. If he hadn't have of caught me, I would have lost my balance and fallen straight into the flowerbed, which decorated the outside of the front garden.

Strange. I've nearly fallen over or hurt myself another way and been stopped by my Father many times before. In fact, he'd saved my life plenty of times before. So why have I only noticed a little thing this time only?

I stood up, got my balance back, then turned around to face my Father.

"Thank you," I smiled, gratefully.

"Your welcome, dear," he replied, smiling back.

We went over to the front door and Dad unlocked the door. I went upstairs to my room and thought about things. Things were playing on my mind now...

We'd just returned from another mystery. Perhaps the strangest one for a while now, but it had done more then just amaze and adrenaline-fill me. It made me think and realize something. Like an epiphany, of some sort. Mr Whistler had gone to such lengths to try and bring his daughter back, and though it had failed, it didn't make a difference. He had tried so hard, and yes it had ended up in him being quite psychopathic, but he wanted his daughter back that much. The whole situation was heart-warming and heart-breaking at the same time.

And it had made me think, there was no story about Melina's Mother, so I had assumed she had died too. Melina was all Oswald Whistler had and seen as my Mother died when I was six, I'm all Dad's got. Aren't I?

If something were to happen to me, and I were to perish somehow, how would Dad react? Would he try and bring me back like Mr Whistler had done for Melina? Would he break down? How long would it take for him to get over it? Would he get over it?

I left my room, even though I'd been in there no longer than three minutes. After solving a mystery, my Father would usually retire to his office, so I went down the hallway and knocked on the white, wooden door.

"Come in," my Father called from inside his office.

I pushed the golden, brass door handle open and went inside. My Father was sitting in a wooden chair, that looked terribly uncomfortable, at his desk, examining some type of rocks under a microscope. Little light was let in, as the drapes were shut in from the window, and the lampshade blocked most of the light from the bulb. A part of me had often thought that he'd done it deliberately and that it helped his work.

"Hello, Lilly dear," he greeted me.

He yawned slightly and stretched. His brown jacket was lying across the back of his chair and his top hat was sitting on a shelf, next to the desk. I could only imagine people's faces, if they were to ever come across him without his hat. I was used to it. With or without his top hat, he was still the same person to me.

"Hello," I replied, creeping into his office quietly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking slightly befuddled.

Most likely because I rarely went into his office. Unless it was late; then I would go in and find him asleep in the chair and I would place a duvet on top of him. Otherwise, I'd leave him alone and work. I didn't want to distract him from his work. I was worried that I would upset him somehow. Even though that did seem unlikely, my Father seemed to stay calm in whatever situation.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied," I was just... Well, I just wanted to ask something."

"What do you want to ask me? Is something troubling you?" he questioned, sounding concerned.

He turned, sharply, away from his work and turned to face me.

"No not really, I was just thinking about Melina and all of what happened earlier today..."

"Hmm," Dad encouraged, he looked like he was listening hard on what I was saying. His chin resting on his hand.

"And, with all what Mr Whistler did for his daughter. To try and bring her back, even though she had died... Or rather to prevent her from dying. It just made me think."

"I see," Dad replied, even though it was clear he didn't see where I was coming from," And what were you exactly thinking about?"

"Well, um..." I stuttered. I had hoped that he would have understood what I was speaking about. Or what I was trying to say, without being direct," That if something were to happen to me, what would you do?"

My Father chuckled slightly and stood up. He came towards me with open arms and embraced me, warmly. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he did the same for me, only he had one hand cradling my head. I nuzzled my head into him.

"What do you think I would do?" he asked me, rhetorically," Lilly, if anything were to happen to you... I don't even want to think about it. You know how much you mean to me, don't you?"

I shrugged. I was smiling too, only my Father couldn't see. I could feel him smiling though. Could he feel me smile?

"But if anything did, which I'm sure it won't, I would go mad. I would do whatever it would take to make sure you were okay," I heard him sigh and then laugh slightly," I would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you're okay, Lilly, any day."

"Thank you. If it makes any difference, I'd do the same for you," I grinned, lifting my head and letting go.

Dad's arms dropped to his sides, as did mine.

"You're not after anything are you?" he asked, looking at me warily.

"No!" I cried, trying to sound offended, but I just ended up giggling uncontrollably. Dad chuckled at me.

"I apologise for bringing it up," Dad said, trying to sound guilty, but he was finding it harder than me, to control his laughter," Here, I'll go and make a pot of tea for us, eh?"

I nodded smiling.

For some reason, I felt more close to my Father, than I had in a long time.

**AN: I had to do that chapter. I enjoyed writing this chapter so much. I've also just realized it's five minutes to one.**

**Goodnight!**


	4. Young Love

**AN: So this is a request from MikuLover, I have nothing else to say, except enjoy!**

Young Love

_4 Years Old_

Mummy opened the car door and I jumped inside and sat down in the seat. She leant across me and pulled the belt over and plugged it in, then went around to the front and into the driver's seat. She put the key in and the engine started making those 'vroom' noises and we began our journey home.

"How was nursery then, love?" Mummy asked, looking at me in the mirror above her.

"Ok, I guess," I shrugged.

"Just a normal day, eh?" Mummy laughed.

"Sort of," I replied, shrugging again.

Mummy nodded and her eyes went back on the road. After a few minutes of silence, I spoke up again.

"Mummy?" I began.

"Yes, poppet," she replied.

"At nursery, there's this boy and we play together in the playground and on the climbing frame and everybody says we have to kiss," I answered.

"Really?" Mummy chuckled," And do you want to kiss this boy?"

"No!" I cried, in disgust," Kissing's yucky!"

"Well, don't worry about it then, you don't have to do something just because people say you have to. You're too young to worry about these things anyway," Mummy answered, laughing.

"I never will!" I exclaimed.

"Never ever?" Mummy teased.

"Never ever ever," I swore.

Mummy rolled her eyes, I saw it in the mirror and she stopped the car as she pulled it into the parking space. She got out and then came and let me out. I jumped down onto the pavement, and we walked over to our flat.

"I think, that one day, when you're a bit older all the boys will be chasing after you," Mummy said.

"Yes, and I will turn them all down, because boys are disgusting!" I grinned.

"Well, you certainly have a point there," Mum smiled, as she put the key in the door of our flat.

She held the door open and we went inside. I put my lunch box down at the doorway of the living room and was on the way to my room, when I was stopped.

"Err, Lilly?" Mummy called.

I turned around and looked at Mummy, she stood by my lunch box pointing down at it, with her arms crossed.

"Yes."

"Boys are disgusting are they? And yet, you never put your lunch box away in the proper place," Mummy said, sternly but she was smiling slightly.

"Whoops," I muttered.

**AN: That was short and terrible. It's hard to write from a 4 year old's POV, because they don't use long words and stuff so it basically just ends up as a script.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Peace out, Onika :)**


	5. The Talk 1

**AN: Here we have a very... Err... Well, we've all had the talk. Lilly doesn't have a Mother and can you imagine Layton giving Lilly the talk? No, I can't, so Emmy's going to do it!**

**Enjoy! R&R!**

The Talk 1

_Aged 13_

I sat on my bed, my knees up and supporting my sketchpad. I scraped the sharp top of the pencil across the paper, as I drew the thin, wavy lines. Abstract and surreal art had been something that I'd never tried before, but my art teacher had decided that all my drawings weren't unique; that there wasn't anything to dignify them from other drawings or paintings. So I'd been told to try doing something I wasn't used to.

Just as I reached for my colours, there was a soft knock at my door.

"Come in," I called.

The door opened and Emmy stepped in. My eyebrows raised, as I hadn't expected her to enter; I'd expected Dad. Why would Emmy want to talk to me? I didn't mind, I was just curious. Emmy and me got along fine, but she wouldn't just come to my room and talk to me for no reason. Dad was in his study, so I assumed he had told Emmy to go and get me. I don't think Dad quite gets the definition of assistant, as he's actually asked Emmy to babysit me (not that I need babysitting- Dad's just over protective) several times. Emmy doesn't seem to mind, but it's been in hours that she doesn't work in, so maybe she's just hiding her emotions?

"Hi, Emmy," I greeted.

"Hi, Lilly," Emmy smiled, she looked very unsure and slightly nervous. She sat down at the end of my bed and put her hands on her lap. I put my sketchbook and pencils on the bedside table and straightened my legs out.

"So, Lilly, your Father asked me to speak to you about some things," Emmy began.

I gave her a quizzical look and waited for her to continue. Emmy pulled her legs up onto my bed and crossed them.

"Ok, so now you're getting older, things will start to … change," Emmy said.

"Right. What things?" I asked, the quizzical look still staring at Emmy. I'd also noticed that Emmy wasn't looking directly at me.

"Well, for girls, when they become teenagers, stuff happens to them, that doesn't happen to boys," Emmy replied.

"Like?"

"Well, for example, you get... breasts," Emmy answered and I looked down at my chest, that was beginning to grow. When I had turned twelve, I'd started to wear bras and every few months, I'd have to get the next size up.

"Ok..." I said, not sure where Emmy was going with this.

"And erm... you sort of start to bleed," Emmy told me.

I raised my eyebrows again.

"Where from?" I asked, not sure that I wanted to know the answer, judging by the look on Emmy's face.

"Erm... Your lady parts..."

My eyes grew wide, as Emmy spoke. I wasn't particularly sure I wanted to have this conversation and I was a hundred percent sure Emmy didn't either. I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable.

"It happens once a month for a few days and it allows women to have children," Emmy explained further," And it can hurt, sometimes."

"Erm..." I didn't know what else to say.

Emmy obviously didn't either, so both of us sat in silent for a while.

"Ok," Emmy said after a while," How about we go down the library and get a book about it, so we don't have to talk about it?"

I nodded, even though I knew it wouldn't make a difference; I'd have to ask Emmy what a word said every two sentences.

I'd always used to love being a girl, but now, I'm not sure. Not sure at all.

**AN: Yeah, sorry it's short. I hope you liked it though!**

**Love it? Hate it? Have no particularly strong feelings for it? Review and let me know!**

**Onika =) X**


	6. The Talk 2

**AN: OK, so I'm eating while writing this... not such a good idea. I don't recommend reading this whilst eating either.**

**If you have questions about 'things' and don't want to ask your parents questions about them, hopefully this will clear things up for you!**

**This is a request from MikuLover! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Lillyesque**

The Talk 2

_16 Years Old_

It was a very, very boring day. You know, the sort where you get so bored you end up playing catch with the wall, using a bouncy ball. I did that for fifteen minutes, then I got bored and watched the television, only to find nothing was on. It was Tuesday, technically, we should be at school, but thanks to the amount of snow that had chucked down last night, school is closed. And, so, Flora, me and five hundred other students are stuck at home in front of daytime television (which consists of chat shows about adultery and addictions and omnibuses of soaps) and nothing else to do.

So, I'm not much of a school person, but at least at school I had friends to see. At home, I could normally go out and see friends, but thanks to the snow I couldn't even use the telephone- let alone leave the house! It was a miracle the television was working, according to Dad, which was pretty ironic considering he doesn't even watch it. I think he expected Flora and me to sit in front of the television all day, but no, after five minutes of flicking through the channels both of us had confirmed that there was nothing interesting on.

I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, reaching out beneath my bed (I'd decided to attempt to tidy my room, by no means at all did I intend on finishing it) and pulling whatever I grabbed first out and throwing it to another corner of the room. Ok, not really cleaning, but it was something and better than I'd ever done before. I was lying down, with my head under the bed, as I trying to reach an old teddy bear, which I'd noticed at the end being squished up by the wall, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I called, my voice probably echoing all over the room.

I had began to get up and out from under the bed, when I very stupidly, hit my head. I must have gotten up too fast, instead of sliding out of the bed, because after I had moved, there was a strong pain on the back of my head.

"Argh! Ow!" I complained.

My bedroom door opened and what light there had been under my bed, was blocked off by the shadow of someone standing above me.

"Lilly? Are you alright?" Dad asked, from above me.

"I'm good," I replied.

Carefully, I manoeuvred myself out and away from the bed and looked up at my Father, who was standing half a metre away from me, with his arms crossed.

"Hello," I greeted.

"May I ask what you were doing, under your bed, Lilly?" Dad asked.

"Cleaning," I answered, hiding my embarrassment with a goofy smile.

The only response I got from Dad was a chuckle. Seen as it had snowed so hard during the night, Dad couldn't go to work either. I don't think it makes much difference; he rarely goes for a full week. I swear Dad takes more time off than it's legal to, but it's not my place to say. And it's not like Dad does it for a bad reason, it's either for some expedition or mystery. The mystery solving helps Dad's career, by miles and the university would never fire him; they'd lose their reputation if they were to do that. This is how Flora and me think it works: Dad solves the mysteries, which makes him look good and because he's under employment of the Gressenheller University, it builds it's reputation and funding.

"So, what can I do for you?" I asked, standing up and dusting off the dirt, from my skirt.

"Well, Lilly, I believe I may need your help with something," Dad replied.

_Uh oh_, I thought immediately. If Dad wanted my help with something, it usually was something that I wouldn't enjoy.

"What do you want help with?" I asked, politely, hiding the slight ounces of fear well.

"Well, now that Flora is err... growing up," Dad began, his cheeks grew pink and his voice became nervous.

_No, no. Please no._

My Father only acted this embarrassed if he was peaking about things that society had deemed impolite to speak about. For example: sex and fertility, puberty, orgasms. You get the idea. And after the first statement 'Now Flora is growing up'... Oh, no, please, no.

"I think it may be better if you explained such things to Flora," Dad said.

Dad knew that I knew what he meant, however I could have a lot of fun with this.

"What things, Dad?" I asked, innocently.

"You know, like um... umm... changes when you grow up and boyfriends and being careful," Dad tried hard to explain, without what he would call 'being graphic'. I'm still pretty sure 'Fifty Shades of Grey' is what you call 'graphic', but according to Dad that book's too 'adult' for a girl like me to even think about, let alone read (I only read two chapters).

"You basically want me to give Flora 'the talk'?" I laughed, in disbelief and the way my Father was acting," Why can't you do it? You adopted her!"

"Because, I think it will be easier coming from another girl," Dad reasoned.

"Is that why you paid Emmy to give me the talk?" I teased.

"Uh... Something like that, yes," Dad said, still blushing.

"Ok," I smiled- this was all the entertainment I needed," So, you _paid _Emmy to give me 'the talk'. Why can't you pay me, to give Flora 'the talk'?"

"Fine," Dad sighed, after a few seconds, rolling his eyes.

"Excuse me, I have to go and tell my sister how to make babies," I smiled, excusing myself from my own bedroom," Flora!" I called, down the stairs. I actually felt pretty excited about this; Flora was still at the age where she would laugh about sex, whereas I'd stopped and well, grown mature. Flora's normally the sensible one, so for once I would feel like the adult (even though I was eighteen months older than her).

"Yes?" Flora replied, her voice was coming from the kitchen. Her English accent was a lot stronger than mine, mine had become a lot more 'street' over the years apparently; that's what Dad said anyway. Personally, I think I still speak with an English accent, just not a particularly posh one. If I'm going out, I normally do speak in a 'posh' accent, btu today I was going to be discussing intimate moments with my younger sister and some how, I was sure that, that voice wouldn't work.

"Hey, Dad's paid me to tell you about growing up," I told her, entering the kitchen to find Flora, who was drinking a cup of tea. I skipped over the white tiles and grabbed a mug, which was on the drying rack and poured the tea, from the teapot in.

"I did it at school, please don't ever bring it up again," Flora replied, flatly, taking a sip of her tea.

"Tough, Dad's paying me and now I'm sixteen and working, Dad's making me pay my share of the bills and I need as much money as I can get," I told her.

Flora sighed and rolled her eyes, just like Dad had done- they were really starting to take eachother's traits; it _almost_ made me jealous. I just smiled at her.

"Great. So, what did you discuss in school?" I asked.

"Well, yesterday we discussed standard form," Flora quipped.

"I have no idea what that is, Flora," I said.

"Multiplying and dividing by the power of ten," Flora explained," I thought your dyslexia effected your reading and writing; not maths?"

"No, my maths grades were higher, but I still failed both. I have a low attention span apparently," I told her.

"I have noticed that," Flora replied.

"Hey, I don't have a low attention span, I just have many thou... Oh a squirrel!" I joked.

Flora laughed at me, spilling tea down her pale, pink dress. I thought that it was working, maybe acting immature would make her open up to me?

"So," I tried again," When you did sex education, what did you talk about?"

"To be honest, my only vivid memory is when we where giving these computerised dolls, to take care of for a day," Flora replied.

"Oh, I remember that," I laughed as a memory of me and my two best friends, Diane and Penelope had struggled around school all day with a pre-recorded cry following us wherever we went. The day had ended in both of us swearing we would never have children and I'm pretty sure that's how they still feel, I haven't even thought about having children since that day when I was fourteen," But what about the lessons about... sex?" It was actually quite hard to say the word.

"Uh," Flora moaned," Please don't remind me of it."

"Tough, I have to; Dad's paid me," I protested.

"Ok, well, we had these people come in and talk to us about... sex and they drew diagrams on the board and err..." Flora's voice seemed to waver at the end, this really was an awkward conversation.

"Listen, Flora, this may seem like a very strange and embarrassing subject, but as you get older, you realize there's nothing funny or embarrassing about it. Apart from Dad, he's never noticed it..." I told Flora.

She clicked her tongue, in response to my comment about Dad.

"So, Lilly?" Flora asked," Are you saying I can ask you anything about sex?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Have you had sex?"

"Wha... What?!" I cried, spilling tea over myself- I had a feeling the washing machine would be over filled tonight, if anyone spilt anymore tea over themselves." No comment."

"But you said..."

"I said no comment!"

* * *

**AN: Hoo, hoo, what are you hiding Lilly? **

**I will probably update later today or tomorrow, with a notice that Lilly's first multi-chapter story is coming out today! Sorry that it won't be an actual chapter!  
**

**I would really like some requests of when Lilly's older. Information about her life can be found on my profile under 'Professor Layton Alter-ego' and you can request through review or PM!**

**Thank you, please review, if you read!**

**Anastasia. D X**


	7. The Talk 3

**AN: Hi guys! I've recently noticed that people are reviewing my Professor Layton fics less and less. Please, if you read, review!**

**And please check out 'Goodbye' if you like Lilly!**

**Also, if any of you have read Lilly's full story on my profile, you'll see that she got cancer when she was 38. This was set before she was diagnosed with it.**

The Talk 3

_38 Years Old_

"Mum!" A high pitched voice shrieked from the upstairs bathroom," Mum! Mum, come here, now!"

I sighed, knowing that the voice belonged to my twelve year old daughter, Isabella. I got up from the sofa, where I'd been watching children's television, with my other daughter, Violet. I smiled down at the eight year old, who reminded me far too much of my late Mother and clicked my tongue. I left the living room and made my way up the stairs, wondering what was wrong with Izzy this time.

The bathroom door was closed, adamant that it was that room that Izzy had shouted for me, I knocked on the pale wooden door.

"Izz? Izzy?" I sang through the door, knocking in rhythm.

"Mum..." A voice whimpered from inside.

"Yes, sweetie? Are you alright in there?" I asked," Have you been sick?"

I was pretty sure she hadn't; I couldn't smell anything. Though I could hear some muffled sobs from inside the room... Then I got it. A twelve year old girl. In the bathroom, upset. You don't need two guesses to figure out what was going on.

"No, I haven't!" Izzy cried, offended," But...erm... Can you come in?"

"Certainly," I replied, opening the door.

It was hard not to laugh. Other than biting my lip, the only thing keeping my giggles from erupting was Izzy's bottom lip trembling and how I kept reminding myself that what she was feeling would be horrible. I was fifteen when I started and I had received 'the talk' from Emmy when I was thirteen. It was just then, when I realised I hadn't given 'the talk' to my daughter yet and well, I may have been putting it off. To be honest though, I didn't think I'd have to. She would start sex education in a year at school and since I started at fifteen, I hadn't expected I would need to. I could just answer any left over questions she had.

"Mum..." Izzy moaned.

"Hi, love," I smiled, sympathetically," Now... Umm, let me guess..."

"There was blood," Izzy said, simply.

"Yeah," I nodded, regretting my decision to postpone this conversation. Now, I'd just left my daughter terrified.

"Mum, do I have to go to the hospital about it?" Izzy asked, biting her lip- a trait I noticed she used a lot and one that she possibly picked up from her Father.

"No, no, sweetie, it umm... It happens to everyone," I replied, kindly. All I got from Izzy was a quizzical look, so I carried on," Well, every girl. Once a girl turns round about your age, they start... bleeding from their..."

"Don't say it!" Izzy cried suddenly," I know what you mean!"

"Right. So yeah, it happens once a month for a few days and it just means that if you want to you can have children. Read a book or something, that's how I learnt about it," I said, not wanting to explain things, even though I really needed to.

"It does?"

"Yes. Then, once you get old it stops."

"Right. Have you stopped yours yet?"

"What...? No!"

"But you said once you get old it stops..."

"I'm not old!"

"You are."

I rolled my eyes and took a quick glance in the bathroom mirror. Okay, I was slightly old. I was still a brunette, but my hair was nowhere near as rich or vibrant as I used to be. And I was slightly wrinkly... slightly.

"Just, look in the cupboard under the sink. There's a green box in there and in that there's some pads. Put them in your knickers and you'll be fine," I said, smiling.

I stepped out of the bathroom and shivered slightly. The kids were growing up fast... and so was I.

**AN: Aww, poor Lilly's getting old. Ok, 38 is not that old, but she ages fast. It's what you get from all the adventures! ;)**

**Again, of you read, please review!**

**Anastasia. D X**


	8. Hello

**AN: Sorry, this isn't an update!**

**Just a quick note to say that Lilly's first story 'Goodbye' has been published.**

**It's set when Lilly's six and is about her and how she coped and felt when her Mother died. **

**I hope you will all read! **

**Anastasia. D X**


	9. Hit and Run 1

**AN: Hmm? Hurting your own alter-ego... Surely that's a sign of some type of craziness?**

**Oh well... Review! Then I'll be even more crazy! :P**

_Age: 15 (Was going to be 16, because I wanted Flora in this, but then I realised that year was very busy and there's no room for this! 17, Lilly was in an asylum, so it couldn't be that either... Looks like it'll have to be 15 and no Flora :( ) _

_Year: 1964_

_Location: Somewhere between Gressenheller Secondary school and the University- basically somewhere in Gressenheller, London._

(I'm going to do it like that from now on because it's easier... and I like it that way.)

Ouch 1

It was a cold day, even for November in England. School had been even harder than normal because of the weather, so today had just been miserable. Our class's favourite teacher had been unable to come into school, because of the ice that had paved the roads over night and we'd been given a very moody supply teacher. So instead of having a fun and practical cooking lesson, we'd had to answer a sheet about nutrition and minerals, while being yelled at by some pensioner who had probably gone into a failed retirement five years ago, or something.

To make matters worse, we had physical education. Outside. Normally, I don't mind sports. I can't catch, pass or hit, but I can run quite fast, so normally it's bearable. Today, it wasn't bearable. For a Tuesday, we were supposed to do netball inside the hall, so we had all brought white, short-sleeved tops and netball skirts. Turns out, our two physical education days (Tuesday and Friday) had been switched around and Miss Carvelle, our tutor, had neglected to tell us. So instead of gymnastics inside on Tuesday, we had football, outside. And, yes, we had to wear our netball kit. I think nearly all of us were considering some type of 'This is a breach of our human rights' riot. But we were too cold.

The school day had finally came to a close and now, my two best friends, Diane and Penelope were on our way home, where we could warm up and probably neglect our homework load, which was getting heavier each day. Usually, we would take the bus home. Though, again, because of the icy pavements, buses had been stopped until the roads cleared up. And, so, all three of us stood in a row, huddling together with our arms linked tightly and our hands stuffed into our pockets. Our noses had turned red and our cheeks were flushed, in an attempt to brighten the mood we'd began to sing 'why he's a jolly good fellow', but soon stopped when we got strange looks from other passers-by.

We got to the shopping centre, which was two minutes away from the university where I was heading to see if I could get a lift from Dad for the last part (which would only take five minutes to walk, but in this weather it may well could of been five hours). Normally, I would walk down the shopping centre with Diane and Penelope and down to Aberville Road, where I lived with Dad. Instead, I said my goodbyes to my friends and turned to cross the road.

I was half way across the road, when suddenly I slipped on a patch of black ice, which blended in with the road far too well. Before I knew it, I was on the frosty ground. The only part of me hurting was my hand, from where I'd stopped myself from falling any further, and so, aware of the dangers of lying in the road, I got up.

I was standing up, about to walk over to the other side of the road, when there was a pain which wracked through my whole body. Then, there was a deafening, high-pitched screech.

The world was spinning.

Colours where everywhere.

Voices were shrieking.

The ice bit every inch of my skin.

Then, there was nothing.

**AN: Waaah! Poor Lilly! Let's hope she'll be okay! **

**Review and maybe she'll get better sooner.**


	10. Hit and Run 2

**AN: It's been ages... sorry :(**

**Before I carry on, I have to say be sure to vote for Lilly as best OC of mine on my poll... or for another one if you think they're better! X**

Hit and Run 2

"Lil! Lilly!" a voice cried. The voice sounded so quiet and faraway, but alarming and close at the same time.

I couldn't see the person who was shouting my name. I couldn't see anything, no colours, no images, not even darkness. Things weren't just black, they were... nothing. And it frightened me. Though I couldn't see, I could hear, feel and smell. I was covered in a blanket of ice, that was that I was sure of. I felt like I had been cryogenically frozen or something. There wasn't one bit of warmth in me, I was stone. Then, if I breathed in, a strong scent of burning gas reached my nostrils suffocating me. I would've choked, but it was already too hard to breathe.

"Lilly! Lil! Please wake up, please, please, please..." the voice whispered. It sounded distressed.. and like they were crying. They were telling me to wake up though? Why? O was awake wasn't I?

Wait... no... I can't see... I'm asleep. Is this a dream? What's going on?

A fuzzy image of a road blurs into view. The sky was grey and the ground was white, a blue car zoomed past, which added a splash of colour, for less than a second, then it was gone and all that was left was the iridescent horizon. The figure in front of me, was crouching on a blanket of ice, she seemed completely unaware of the frozen lake that lay beneath her. I couldn't quite make out the face at first, all of the colours blurred together in the contrast of the grey world, but, after blinking several times, the face appeared crystal clear.

It was Penelope Flicker, my best friend. Her blonde hair flew about in the wind, she'd obviously taken it down to warm herself up, because she mostly wore it in a bun and tears of worry and fear glimmered in her blue eyes. Her eyes stood out in contrast with her red face, from the cold air.

"Lil, oh god, Lil, are you okay?" Penelope asked.

"What..." I muttered, slowly pushing myself up.

"No, Lilly! Don't move!" Penelope demanded, taking a strong hold of my shoulder, not letting me move anymore," Stay down. That's the one thing I know about first aid."

I didn't have the energy to nod. I let myself fall back on the ground, which was a mistake. There was a sharp edge on the floor, where I fell and as soon as my head landed, it felt as if it was being split into. No... it felt as if a deep cut was being made deeper. I wailed softly as the pain rose through my head and down my neck.

Suddenly, a pang of nausea hit as did exhaustion. My eyelids fluttered and they began to close.

"No, Lilly, stay with me, don't even fall asleep. At all, okay. Just keep your eyes open and look at me," Penelope instructed.

"... Can't," I breathed.

"You can and you have too," Penelope replied," Look, Diane's over there, at the phone box. She's calling an ambulance."

"What happened?" I asked, gasping for breaths.

"You were walking across the road. You slipped and... you got up, but a car came and..." Penelope explained through tears," You didn't get out of the way in time."

"Where's the car now?" I asked.

"It drove off. Hit and run," she replied.

"Hmm... I..." I tried to speak, but I couldn't. My eyelids began to close and I couldn't stop them," I..."

"Lil! No, no, no, Lillian. Stay awake!" Penelope shouted," Don't you dare fall asleep on me!"

Her words began to flow around me like honey, but soon they drifted off into nothingness like me.

**AN: Again, not the best update. There will only be three parts to this one, by the way, guys! **

**Then I will work on requests!**

Which you can still give! X


	11. Hit and Run 3

**AN: Two updates in one day! Lucky things! X**

Hit and Run 3

The world was spinning more than it ever had before. There was everything, but there was nothing at the same time. There was everything bad, but nothing good. Shouts and screams echoed through me and out of me. It felt like it would never end, when I just wanted it to stop. It was hell, only I wasn't burning. I was too cold to be on fire.

"She's coming around!" a man's voice cried.

"She is?" a woman's voice called back.

Footsteps bounced through the room and my eyelids fluttered open. The room was a light blue, with a ceiling full of bright lights; lights that are too bright. There was a high-pitched, continuous 'beep' too, the sound of it never changed, it was exactly the same each time. Exactly the same amount of time between each beep, exactly the same tone and pitch. It never changed. It was irritating, each beep stung.

"... Stop the... the beeping," I muttered.

"Lilly? Lilly, dear?" my Father's voice called.

I squinted, the light was too unbearable to look at completely- even more unbearable to look at than the sun- but the image of my Father's kind, warm face swam into view. As usual, he was wearing his signature top hat and giving me a broad smile. He looked tired too- which wasn't abnormal because he spent most nights studying until two o'clock. He stuck out his hand and stroked my hair.

"Make the beeping stop," I whispered.

"Oh, Lilly," Dad chuckled," Believe me, you really don't want that beeping to stop."

"Yes, I do," I replied," What is it anyway?"

"It's a heart rate monitor," Dad answered.

"Oh, I really don't want them to stop then," I smiled, as much as I could- it hurt- and dad did too.

Suddenly I felt a hand grip around my left wrist. I jumped back at the cold hand, then slowly- not having much energy- turned around to face a woman in blue scrubs. She stood there, ginger hair scraped back into a short pony tale, looking down at a watch strapped to her chest; checking my pulse.

"How are you feeling, love?" she asked.

"Tired," I replied.

"You'll be a bit weak for a few days. Not to worry though, you'll be fine. I'll just leave you two alone for a few minutes, then I'll come back into check on you," she said, winking at me and then leaving the room.

"What happened?" I asked, once the door had been closed and I'd seen the nurse walk away through the glass window.

Dad sighed. A look came over his face that made him look angry- or as angry as he could get; he wasn't one for being angry- and upset. Since I'd woken up, he'd looked relieved and happy (because I'd woken up), but now... I'd never seen him like this. Ever.

"There was a car..."

"And it hit me," I finished for him," I can remember parts."

Dad nodded, softly and with the had been that had been stroking my hair, he slid it down my face, smiling contently.

"The car that hit you and the driver was found two miles away from where they hit you. He was intoxicated, highly. He's been put on trial, this is his fourth time getting caught drink-driving this year," Dad told me.

"Really? Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" I asked," If it's their fourth time, surely he'll be put in jail, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Dad smiled," It didn't stop me worrying though."

Of course, when would Dad not worry? He spent half of his life worrying about me. He worried about me so much it got irritating! I wasn't allowed to go shopping alone, when every other girl my age was until I was fourteen. And then he still always dropped me off and picked me up at an arranged time (where if I was two minutes late, he would freak out). Auntie Brenda had always said that it's because of my Mother's death; he doesn't want the same to happen to me.

"Was I seriously injured?" I asked, if I knew how badly I'd been hurt, then I;d get some idea of how he'd react.

"You could have been worse. You weren't anywhere near perishing, but I was still worried. Very worried. You know, I got the call from the hospital at work and I don't think I have ever been more scared," he whispered," I knew you;d be okay though. You're strong, Lilly. A lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

**AN: And next I will work on Redsparrow3's request: Baking with Flora! Well, that should be fun!**

**So remember guys'n'gals, vote for Lilly on my poll and you can always check out 'Goodbye' for more Lilly!**

**Anastasia Dove/ Nikki Xxx**


	12. The Exploding Oven

The Exploding Oven

_Age: 16_

_Date: November 1965_

_Games?: Set between PB/DB and LF/UF_

_Place: home_

It was the third time that week, that I came downstairs with the odour of burnt toast and raw egg filling my nostrils. And it was Wednesday. No doubt about it, Flora had been _attempting _to cook again. Great; it looked like I'd have to spend another morning having, to not only eat, but pretend that I liked uncooked omelette, burnt bacon and toast covered in a coal like substance. There was no way to quickly dispose of it either, Flora would always watch over us while we ate her food (if you could call it that), like an eagle watching it's prey. We had no choice, but to eat the piles of gruel, which lay before us.

Dad was too much of a 'gentleman' to even consider telling Flora that cooking was not one of her strong points and that maybe she could take up another hobby, like sewing or something that didn't mean we'd be vomiting for three days straight. I, on the other hand, had considered it many times. I'd even tried to tell her once, but Dad had quickly changed the subject and dragged me over to the corner and demanded that I should never tell someone that they aren't good at something, because it wasn't very ladylike. What and contracting food poisoning so often that you constantly smell of vomit was?

Holding my breath, I made my way through the living room and into the dining room, to find Dad sitting at the table, reading his usual morning paper. There was a cup of tea next to him and a pot of tea in, sat on the middle of the table. Realising it was a fresh brew- steam was still rising- I picked up a china mug and poured my own cup.

"Morning, Dad," I greeted.

"Morning, dear," Dad smiled, his face appearing from the left of the newspaper," I trust you slept well?"

"I suppose so," I replied, adding the sugar " You?"

"Fine," Dad answered, simply.

Just as I took my first sip of tea, Flora entered the room, looking very gleeful and happy, unlike us, as we saw what she held in her hands: a tray containing a variety of different foods, which would together make up the English breakfast. At least we could pick what we'd eat, that way we could take whatever looked the easiest to devour, though by the looks of things, none of the food available had looked at all pleasant.

"I hope you enjoy your breakfast!" Flora beamed, placing the dishes in the middle of the table, along with three empty plates; one for each of us," Bon appetit!"

I bit my lip, nervously looking at the slobber.

"Umm, thank you, Flora, but..." I stopped for a second, quickly trying to think up of an excuse," But Jack's taking me out for breakfast."

"Oh..." Flora sighed, her mouth forming into a firm 'o' shape.

Dad gave me a firm glare, seeing right through my lie. I had a suspicion that he wasn't annoyed with me because I was lying, but because I'd come up with an excuse to get away. Sometimes, I used to wonder if Dad could actually lie. I froze, hoping that this time Dad would not give me away- whether deliberately or accidently,it wouldn't make a difference as long as he didn't.

"When are you going, Lillian?" he asked. I bit my lip, he only calls me Lillian for a warning- he calls me my full name, Lillian-Marie, when I'm in trouble.

"Soon, actually," I answered," We have to fit it in at a time, before he starts work and I start art classes."

"Well, before you leave, can I see you in my office; I've got something to show you," Dad told me,"I'm sorry Flora, dear, but I have to get to work too.

He was trying to get away from Flora's 'breakfast'? That wasn't like him. Normally, he'd just force himself through it... Well, who could blame him? Flora's food really was suicidal...

"Well, would you mind showing me now?" I smiled, weakly, playing along as well as I could- my acting skills really weren't that good; I laughed too much and could never act natural," I have to leave very soon," I added.

"Certainly," Dad replied, then turned to Flora with an apologetic expression," I'm sorry, Flora, maybe tomorrow..."

"No!" I yelled, stupidly, beginning to blush as the two began to stare at me wide-eyed, especially Flora," Err... no... what I meant was... erm... What I meant was, that I should cook breakfast tomorrow. After all, Flora, you cook all the time! I should do it for a change- I never do any work, at all."

"You do work," Flora pointed out," You waitress at the Bistro and sing. You do all the washing and the laundry here, too."

"But never the cooking," I grinned, knowing all to well, that I was coming off as very fake, Flora seemed to buy it though.

"Ok... Only if I do the washing though," Flora proposed.

"Perfect!" I agreed, her laundry couldn't be anywhere as near as bad as her cooking could it? Well, it was a lot easier. As long as she didn't mix the white and reds...

"Lilly?" Dad said, clearing his throat," Shall we?"

"Yes, of course," I replied," Have a good day, Flora." I nodded towards her, then followed Dad out of the room and upstairs and into his musky office.

Dad wasn't the most organised of people, it was a shame Emmy was no longer around. After she'd left, Dad had paid me once to tidy it up, which was a big mistake. After I'd finished, the room was more messy than it was to begin with. Mainly because I'd broken a fossil, which looked extremely old. I still hadn't told Dad that I'd broken an artefact, after all, it couldn't be that precious could it? Not if he'd left it hanging around so carelessly... His office was full of them anyway and I was sure he wouldn't notice one out of a hundred missing.

"So, Lilly, can I ask you a favour?" Dad questioned, once we were in his office.

"Of course," I replied," What is it?" I asked, secretly praying it wasn't to tidy up his office.

"Clark, Brenda and Luke are coming for dinner tonight," Dad answered.

"Really? Brilliant!" I exclaimed, happy that I'd be seeing my godparents, but also slightly annoyed that I hadn't been told sooner," So what do you need to ask me to do then?"

"Well, Flora has volunteered to cook..." Dad replied, stiffly, not meeting my eyes- which were now lying underneath raised eyebrows.

"You didn't..." I tutted.

"And, I don't want to upset her, so is there anyway possible that you can... Supervise her?" Dad asked.

"You want me to help Flora cook?" I asked, my cooking skills weren't that good to be honest, though they were better than Flora's.

"More or less, yes. So, will you?" he questioned.

"Of course! Who doesn't want a freshly cooked meal by Flora Reinhold?" I said, sarcastically, immediately regretting saying it- although if Flora gave them food poisoning, I would never see my godparents and I saw them rarely enough already!

"Quite," Dad said, not quite realising what he was saying. I raised my eyebrows at him and he quickly noticed what he was saying," I... er... What I meant to say was I'm glad you will help."

"Of course it was what you meant!" I laughed," Anyway, I better go, or Flora will notice."

"Have a good day, dear," Dad smiled, as I left his office.

"You too," I called, from the stairs.

-X-

It was now four o'clock, Flora had gotten home about half an hour ago, whilst I'd been home all day. It didn't occur to me until Flora had gotten home that I could've cooked food and then hide them, until Flora did some cooking, so that I could pull the 'switch' trick. To be honest, it would probably backfire and my cooking would taste worse than Flora's, or Flora would find out. When you deal with something fragile, don't take risks, ever- especially when it's Flora cooking.

"Oh, you honestly don't have to help me with the cooking! You can just put your feet up and enjoy a _lovely _dinner afterwards!" Flora beamed, and I forced a smile in return.

"No, we should spend sometime together anyway. Now I've left school I never see you," I reasoned.

"Well, if you're sure..." Flora drifted off, in a dreamy voice as she began skipping towards the kitchen.

I followed behind- not skipping of course- wrinkling my nose, as the kitchen still smelt like this morning's breakfast. I picked up the air-freshener from above the sink and vigorously sprayed it around everywhere- causing both Flora and me to cough violently. She gave me a quick glance which read 'what are you doing?' but as soon as I saw the look she was giving me, I turned around and pretended not to notice. It worked well, as in a few seconds the kitchen seemed to smell only of jasmine and cherries- a strange but seemingly successful combination.

Flora, being in the kitchen more than me, had much better hygiene preparation skills than me. It was a slight relief, I suppose, at least we knew the food poisoning was down to strange and complex food mixes, not bacteria. I watched, slightly impressed, as my sister washed the counter with a cloth, washed her hands and placed a white apron over her pink dress. Knowing that there was a good chance that I'd be cooking more than Flora, I grabbed another white apron and tied it around my purple dress and washed my hands too.

"So, did you have any ideas for what to cook?" I asked, Flora and without waiting for a reply, I added," Because I think we should use my Grandmother's special recipe."

"Your grandmother's special recipe?" Flora repeated in the form of a question, her eyes wide, though I wasn't sure if it was amazement or annoyance.

"Yes, she gave it to me before she passed on," I lied. Well, half-lied. Nana Marina- my Mother's Mother- had passed away when I was eleven and she had left me a recipe. But with Flora's culinary skills and her liability to let secrets slip there was no way I could tell her. Instead, I decided to use a simple dish and pass it off as my Grandmother's recipe," However, as long as you promise to keep the secret, I suppose I can tell you..."

"Yes! Of course I can keep a secret!" Flora nodded as eager as a six year old after ice cream.

"Well, there's nothing to it really... and I don't want to give all of it away- I don't want to upset Nana in heaven," I said, dreamily, even though Flora was aware that we were atheists," I'll give one part away and you can sort that out. Is that okay?"

"Yes!" Flora cried, just as eager," What part do I have?"

"Jacket potatoes."

Her smile turned into a frown.

"Jacket potatoes?"

"Yes, jacket potatoes. You know how to cook them, don't you?"

"Of course- it's simple; in the oven for an hour and out."

"Perfect!" I grinned- maybe there was hope for her after all... Or at least in jacket potatoes.

"So, what will I do when the potatoes in the oven?" Flora asked, as she lit the oven with igniter.

"Err... Watch them," I suggested.

"Okay..." Flora agreed, sounding unsure.

I watched her as she held the igniter in her hand- there was no way Flora was lighting an oven unsupervised, ever! Surely though, she handled the amber flame carefully and seemed to lit the oven without any problems. So far, so good. If the potatoes went well, maybe I'd even consider eating some more simple dishes that Flora had cooked.

The potatoes had been in the oven for about fifteen minutes, when there was a knock at the door. Dad still wasn't home, so I left the mince where it was in the saucepan and told Flora to keep an eye on it- for no more than ten seconds- and went to answer the door. I walked rather fast to the door, not wanting to leave Flora alone for any longer than I'd have to, and opened the wooden, door, which was painted red, but had become chipped overtime- DIY wasn't Dad's strongest point; picking the right colour was perhaps Dad's ultimate puzzle!

"Hello!" I greeted, placing a large smile on my face. It wasn't that I wasn't pleased to see them- I was ecstatic- but I was far too worried about Flora and desperate to get Flora to the kitchen," Come in, come in."

"Hi, love!" Auntie Brenda cooed, stepping in the house first. It had been a while since I'd seen her, but she didn't seem any different from how I could remember her. She still had the maternal and gentle look in her eyes and a wide smile- which had brought lots of light to my life after my Mother passed away. The only thing different about her was that instead of her usual get-up, a blue jumper and black trousers, she was wearing a blue blouse and a black pencil skirt. She wrapped her arms round me and gave me a kiss on the cheek," You, my darling, are beginning to look more and more like your Mother each day."

Lots of people seemed to say that. Well, only the ones that had known my Mother, of course. Dad said it a lot, and so did my Grandfather- my Mother's Father- he even called me 'Claire', which was my Mother's name, once (we found out, sadly, that it was because he had dementia, about two weeks later). However, I couldn't see it. My hair had a few auburn streaks in, when it was in the light, but I'd often wondered whether it was because of the light and or if my hair was too dark for it to be seen anywhere else. The only thing that was similar about my Mother and me was that we both had blue eyes. Even our personalities where completely different- well, what I remembered of her- but, then again, she did leave us when I was six, so I didn't have much time, characteristic wise, to inherit anything from her.

"You're certainly turning into a beautiful, young lady!" Uncle Clark agreed with his wife, nodding.

"Thank you," I said, trying to push through the fear in my voice," You look well, too."

"Thank you, dear. It's been a long time since we've seen you," Uncle Clark pointed out," Your sixteenth birthday, was it?"

"Err... Yes, I believe it was," I nodded.

"Oh, look at you; you really are growing up! You speak like a true English Lady," Uncle Clark observed.

I gave him a strange look, the only time I put on a posh accent was when Dad had another Professor over from the university, or I was around Jack's family as they were incredibly posh. Fantastic; I'd been using my 'posh voice' because I was so nervous. I'd have to talk like that for the whole evening now.

"Thank you," I smiled, turning to Luke, who was hiding behind his Mother," How are you, Luke? I hear that you're coming to stay with us for a fortnight next week."

"Umm... Hi, Lilly. Yeah... I am," Luke said, nervously, which was strange; he was never nervous or shy around me. He'd known me for his entire life. I could even remember holding Luke as a baby.

"Anyway, come on in all of you," I ushered, now very desperate to get back to the kitchen. The nodded and made their way into the living room," Now, I have to get back to the kitchen to cook, but I'll get Flora to keep you company. My apologies for my Father's... failure to keep punctual," I said, probably sounding like a question. I wasn't sure how to describe someone's flaws using sophisticated language. It made them laugh, so I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

_BANG_

"Good lord!" Auntie Brenda cried, as the noise echoed through the house.

"What on earth was that?!" Uncle Clark exclaimed.

"Flora..." I muttered, then sprinted towards the kitchen.

When I was halfway there, a loud beep began to screech it's way through the downstairs floor; the fire-alarm. I swore under my breath- something I very rarely did- then ran faster to the kitchen. There, lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, was Flora. She didn't look hurt, but she did look extremely traumatized. Sighing, I hurried over and offered my hand to help her up and she gratefully took.

"What on earth was that?" I demanded, reaching up towards the ceiling and pressing the red button in the centre of the fire alarm. Immediately the beeping stopped.

"... The oven... exploded..." Flora answered, shakily.

"What?!" I hissed, turning over to the oven, as the other three came dashing in.

We all turned towards the crackling, golden gas, as it spurted from the oven.

"What were you cooking?" Auntie Brenda asked, hurriedly.

"Jacket potatoes," Flora told her, embarrassed and guilty.

"Oh, dear, did you forget to put the holes in the top?"

I froze.

"Lilly didn't say I needed to..."

**AN: That was a request from Redsparrow3 **_'One where Lilly is baking with Flora! I mean really what could go wrong? Anything can happen from suspiciously good cookies (probably because Lilly hid the ones Flora baked an presented her own so Flora didn't feel bad) to Flora breaking the oven!' _**Yes, I chose Flora breaking the oven! I thought it'd be funny!**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**The last chapter of **_Goodbye _**should be up soon! If not tomorrow, by Saturday!**

**Please leave a review! If you review mine, I review yours!**

**And please leave a request, before I run out! X**


	13. Readers?

Okay, this isn't exactly a proper chapter. It's a notification.

I'm getting tired of writing Professor Layton fanfiction, not because of a lack of inspiration, but because of the lack of the readers.

It's been brought to my attention that very few people actually read stories based on Professor Layton, even fewer are reading mine and even fewer are reviewing. To be honest, I'm getting fed up with it. I love writing about Lilly, but I won't write if no one reads.

If there are people reading, then please leave a review and then, I will continue.

People often say that the reason they never review is because they don't know what to say. Well, half the time I don't either. I just put 'Good chapter' for about 75% of my reviews. Just two words will persuade me to continue.

And, no, I'm not begging for reviews. I'm saying I can't tell that anyone's reading because of the lack of reviews. If no one is reading, then there's nothing to complain about with the reviews.

So, if you've read this, let me know if you **ARE **reading.

Thank you, Anastasia/ Nikki


	14. Mustard, Apple Crumble and Rice Cakes

**AN: Apologies for the last chapter. I was being paranoid as I've suddenly noticed that the amount of PL readers has dropped rapidly. **

**Please keep reviewing! And I could really do with some more requests! :)**

This is a request from

_Angel Amy Cherry Eagle Pink _**who kept sending me messages, begging me to do this chapter. So, I gave in. **

**Enjoy!**

**And, it's from Claire's perspective. Chapters from when Lilly's below 10 will be in other** **people's perspectives because it's a hell of a lot easier. And you'll get to see Lilly in other peoples' points of view.**

* * *

Mustard, Apple Crumble and Rice Cakes

_Age: -_

_Date: May 1949_

_Games: Before all of them_

_Place: Home_

* * *

"Hershel!" I called, from the living room, where I was sitting on the sofa reading a magazine labelled 'You and Your Baby' in big red writing, on the front," Hershel!"

"Yes, love?" my sweetheart shouted from where he was- the kitchen, hopefully," Is everything okay?"

"The baby's hungry!" I replied, stroking the large bump, which not even my baggiest jumper could hide.

Over the past few months, I'd began to notice that pregnancy effected everything. I'd always known that hormones were triggered during the nine expecting months, but mood swings were only the beginning of my problems. To be honest, I wasn't experiencing as many sudden mood changes as other soon-to-be-mums did, the odd crabby moment, but I was too excited and panicky to have a sudden outburst. The other problems were a lot more... painful. Swollen feet and ankles, greasy hair, outbreaks of spots, getting fat- or as other people called it 'filling out' and that was only half of it. Everything seemed to ache and the only thing I ever wanted to do was sleep. I couldn't walk past the Chinese takeaway anymore, which was the place we got dinner from on Wednesdays, without wanting to vomit and I was finding myself needing the bathroom more than three times than what I was used to.

Though all these things were part of the experience, and every Mother went through it, I sometimes couldn't help but feel a but annoyed. Pregnancy was supposed to be a beautiful thing, but looking in the mirror- if I was able to stand up to look in one, that is- I didn't see anything beautiful (unless I tried to look beyond the bump and picture the baby. All I could see was a spotty, frumpy, fat student- who was frowned upon by society for having a child in this day and age, while still going through education and not married. I knew it would be worth it though; the strange looks as I walked through the street; the pain- which would only get worse; the way I looked. After all, in no more than six weeks (the baby was due in five weeks, but there's always the chance of being a week or so late) there would be a little, gorgeous baby in my arms. A little person, who would look to me and Hershel for guidance. It was such a responsibility, but such a privilege at the same time.

"You mean _you're_ hungry?" Hershel laughed, although I couldn't see him, I could picture his face: smiling to himself, his dark eyes glistening.

"Same thing," I told him, smirking- again, even though he wasn't able to see me.

"Very well, then, I'll fix you something," he chuckled.

"Brilliant,"I said to myself, then looked down at my bulging stomach," You're always hungry aren't you, little one?"

I received two kicks in reply. I chuckled softly, and stroked the patch where the baby was kicking and tried to imagine what he or she looked like. I'd had many dreams that the baby was a boy, but according to the magazine, dreaming that your baby is a specific sex usually means it was the opposite gender. Still though, I could only picture the baby as a boy. A bouncing baby boy. A mini-Hershel.

A few minutes later, Hershel came into the living room, carrying a china plate of... a ham and mayonnaise sandwich. The horrible odour filled my nostrils and I had to run to the toilet- well, limp quickly- so I could regurgitate whatever was left of my last snack.

"Claire?" Hershel asked, concerned, poking his head around the door," Are you alright?"

"Get that sandwich away!" I demanded, then vomited again.

The bitter scent of vomit began to fill the air, replacing the smell of the sandwich- gladly for me; sick, I could handle.

"Of course," he muttered," disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

I breathed deeply, then rolled over and fell onto the wall, my legs stretched out across the floor.

Then, Hershel appeared again.

"The sandwich has been disposed of," he announced, with a smile.

"Good," I smiled," Can you help me up?"

"Most certainly," he replied, taking a firm grasp around my wrist and pulling me up," Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said, with a grin, as I began to waddle back to the living room," I'm still hungry though..."

"Of course, what would you like? Something that won't make you err..." Hershel was stuck for words; there was no polite word for 'sick'.

"Er..." I drifted off, racking my brain for things that I could eat. Strangely, my brain began to fit various different scents together until I found one that sounded perfect," Mustard, apple crumble and rice cakes."

"What?" Hershel said, after a few seconds of strange looks- while I gave him a content one- and silence," You want mustard, apple crumble and rice cakes?"

"No, I don't," I replied, shaking my head," The baby does."

* * *

**AN: Just a short, drabbly one.**

**But, yeah, guys, more requests! Can be about Claire's pregnancy, baby Lilly, little Lilly, grown-up Lilly etc. Anything! Any genre!**

_Bullies _**will be uploaded next and is a multi-chapter fic. **

**Please leave a review! :)**

**Anastasia/ Nikki xx**

**PS. Sorry again about the last chapter. :/**


	15. Bullies 1

**AN: Hi lovelies! Xx**

**This is the multi-chapter sequel to **_Goodbye _**which as long as you've played Lost/Unwound Future you don't need to read to understand this. **

**It'll be in the third person as it is incredibly difficult to tell a story from a nine-year olds point of view and not just because it's been a few years since I was nine- I'm not telling you how many, but you're welcome to guess!**

_Old and New Faces, _**the sequel to this, will be published after it is finished. This will be six chapters long, so will take us up to chapter 20, then I'll get working on some of the brilliant requests you lovely people have sent me! And don't be afraid to keep sending them through reviews and PM. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please leave a review! :) xx**

* * *

Bullies

Age: 9

Date: April, 1959

Games?: Pre-Spectre's Call/Last Specter, but spoilers for Lost/Unwound Future

* * *

The playground was full of young children, running about happily in the sunshine of the warm Spring day. There was a light breeze of cool air running through the children's hair as they sprinted across the fields and down the slides, but the sun still shone brightly and there was no need for anything more than the cotton, maroon coloured school cardigans, with the yellow logo embroidered on the front. The children cried happily as they darted across the playground and on and off the play equipment with their friends as the teachers carefully looked around in search for hurt, upset or alone children. As it appeared, no children were in tears.

As the clock reached ten past one, the teacher took the whistle from around her neck and blew it, and the children- some reluctantly began to line up in their classes at the front of the doors of their classrooms. One class, the one closest to the school garden, which lay across from the swings and climbing frame, lined up, with the young teacher at the front and made their way into their classroom. The red-haired teacher sat down on the blue chair at the front, while all the other children took their seats on their uncomfortable, wooden desks. The teacher took out a plastic wallet from the drawer beneath her desk, which was labelled '5LW' in bold print and took out her pen.

"Good afternoon, Jessica Avery," the teacher read out.

"Good afternoon, Miss Wells," a girl with hazel hair, who was sitting at the back, replied.

"Good afternoon, James Boston," the teacher called out.

"Good afternoon, Miss Wells," a boy with stubby black hair replied, from the middle row.

The teacher continued to read out names from the register as the children replied, there was a full house, not a single child absent. Until she got down to one child's name.

"Good afternoon, Lilly Layton," Miss Wells called out.

There was no answer- except for a small cough from another child. the teacher looked up at the seat in the middle row where the girl sat and sure enough it was empty. The teacher raised her eyebrows.

"Has anyone seen Lilly?" the teacher asked, standing up.

"No, Miss," the class answered in unison.

"She was here this morning..." the teacher muttered, analysing the mornings register.

She looked back again at the seat, which the missing girl would sit in, then around the classroom for any sign of her. But surely, there was no sign of the young brunette, who usually sat there.

"Does anyone know where Lilly has gone? The medical room, maybe?" the teacher questioned.

None of the other students said a thing. The teacher frowned; surely one of them must know where she'd gone? She couldn't have just disappeared out of thin air! But she had no choice, Lilly wasn't in the classrooms, so she put an 'X' next to her name, then carried on.

"Good afternoon, Eddie Mareston."

"Good afternoon, Miss Wells."

-X-

"Why weren't you here earlier, Lilly?" the teacher asked, looking down at the small girl whimpering before her. Her eyes were blotchy and swollen from tears, she knew that the girl had been crying, but she shouldn't have missed the first half an hour of class without being supervised or with permission.

"Because... Err... I, err..." Lilly stuttered," I didn't want them to see me cry."

"If you were upset why didn't you talk to a teacher at your lunch break?" the teacher asked, firmly, not giving in, although she wished she could.

She knew about the girl's friendship and social problem. Everyday she saw the nine-year old walk around the playground on her own, or have a group of other girls taunting her and calling her names. The strange thing, the girl had one nothing wrong. She was slower at learning than the other children, but she had other talents too. She was the highest in the class at design and art lessons and could draw at the skill of a teenager- she had the perfect eye for detail. She was a fast runner too, not very sporty or active, but she certainly had a good pace and stamina for a girl of her age.

"Because... Because they don't do anything and if I tell, they say more things!" the girl cried, innocently.

"Who are?" the teacher queried. Lilly shook her head and didn't answer," Lilly, who's saying thing about you?"

"N...no one," she stammered. The teacher gave her a firm look, but Lilly knew what +the consequences would be if she let the names slip," It's nothing; I can handle it Miss Wells. Can I go to my seat now?"

"Very well, then," the red-head sighed, dismissing the poor girl.

**AN: Not the best chapter- I did it work keep in mind. Really not the place to be updating, but there's nothing else to do. Basically, I'm getting paid to do my fanfiction :P**** Don't worry, I'll get back to work now. **

**Please leave a review, but quickly read this:**

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO MY BEST FRIEND KATERINA:

_I know what you're going through is horrible and I feel so much for you. Remember, I'm thinking of you and no matter what happens I will always be here for you! I love you so Nikki xxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx_

**Please leave a review and make my day! :) **_  
_

**Anastasia xx**


	16. Bullies 2

**AN: Hi lovelies! I hope you're all enjoying this! **

**Please leave a review! Xx**

* * *

**In reply to **SausageMahoney98's** question, and for all of you who are wondering, Claire was 21 when Lilly was born and was in University. Layton (also 21) and Claire would've met in University and Claire accidentally got pregnant- kind of OOC, but I really don't think Layton is a virgin. I'm sure Claire and him must have done it at some point...  
**

**There will be a multi-chapter short story in here at some point about how Lilly... err... Came. You get the idea! Xx  
**

* * *

Lillyesque

Bullies 2

* * *

Lilly sat at the table, her brown hair and pale arm covering her face, as she drew on the back of her maths sheet. Tightly, she clasped the pencil around her fingers, as she traced the pencil down the paper and it left a trail of grey dust behind. The questions on the front didn't matter, or make any sense. To Lilly, they were another language. Drawing was a lot more important; she could say more with art than anyone could with numbers. She could say more with her drawings than with words! The cliché was true, 'a picture paints a hundred words', that was what Auntie Brenda had said when Lilly had shown her Godmother her pictures, anyway.

No one would even see it either. The back of the sheet wouldn't show when Lilly would stick it down in her exercise book. She'd copy the answers down from someone else, making the odd number slightly different, too. That way, Miss Wells wouldn't notice and Lilly would have gotten away with it again. Lilly may not have been bright, but she wasn't stupid.

It wasn't like she hadn't tried, she really had. She paid attention to Miss Wells' demonstrations, but the numbers just wouldn't fit. Like a puzzle that couldn't be solved. There was nothing else she could do. She'd done nothing wrong, but if she asked for help, Miss Wells would just say that she hadn't listened properly. At least this way it looked like she was working. And she was, she'd put a lot of hard work and effort into her drawing. She always did.

"Right, everyone, can you please leave your work alone for a minute," Miss Wells instructed, in her loud voice. All the children put down their pencils, creating a clatter of raindrops echo across the room and all eyes fell on the little boy who was standing next to the teacher. He was trembling with anxiety, but he stood straight and confidently. He was dressed in the school's plain uniform; black trousers (or a skirt for a girl) a white polo shirt (or blouse for a girl) and maroon blazer and it clashed with his ruffled, bronze hair" We have a new student today. Everyone, this is, Clive Dove."

-X-

It was break time. Lilly sat among the crowds of children carving hearts and flowers into the mud with a stick she'd found. Looking at her artwork, which would soon be demolished by tramples of feet, she wished that she could draw herself a friend just as easily as she could draw anyone else. Letting out a long and wistful sigh, Lilly wiped the mud up into a clump, demolishing her drawings, with the side of her newly-polished, black school shoe. People could see it anyway, it was better for the picture to be destroyed now, rather than later.

"Hi."

Lilly jumped up, expecting it to be one of the bullies in her class. But as she turned around and got ready to run to a place where a teacher was near, she saw that it was not a mean face. Instead, it seemed to be a kind one, with a shy smile. It was the new boy, Clive Dove.

"...Hi," Lilly replied, nervously- she wasn't used to speaking to people her own age.

"You're in my class, aren't you?" he asked.

"No, you're in my class," Lilly corrected," I was there first."

"But it's my class now," he contradicted," What's your name?"

"Lilly," she answered," Well, Lillian-Marie, but people just call me Lilly."

"I'm Clive Dove," the boy introduced.

"I know; Miss Wells told us in maths."

"Why are you just called 'Lilly' when your name is longer?"

"I don't know," Lilly shrugged," My Mother named me after her Mother, Marie, but they fell out when I was a toddler, so she just called me Lillian and everyone else did too. Then, when Mummy died, people just started calling me Lilly."

"Your Mum died?" Clive questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, when I was six," Lilly replied," Why?"

"My Mum's dead, too. And my Dad," Clive explained, not at all seeming sad.

"Oh," Lilly said," I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But when I tell people my Mum is dead that's what they always say. Do you know why?"

"No. It's annoying, isn't it? Unless it's their fault, but if it was, you wouldn't want to speak to them, would you?" Clive wondered aloud," What did your Mum die of anyway?"

"She fell," Lilly answered, with the same reply she always got from her Father when she asked.

"Was it..." he lowered his voice," Was it on purpose? Did she jump on purpose? Like suicide?"

"Suicide?" Lilly questioned.

"Did she end her own life?"

"Oh, no. At least, I don't think so," Lilly shook her head," Dad doesn't like to speak about it. But she was at work and she tripped and fell. Out of a window I think. I can remember seeing her lying on the street outside of her work building. What about your parents?"

"Fire," Clive replied.

"If both your parents are dead, where do you live?"

"In a special home with lots of children," he told her," I'm supposed to be going to live with this woman who will adopt me, but they have to make sure she's suitable and that like her first. What about you, do you just live with your Dad? Or do you have a Stepmother? Or any other brothers or sisters?"

"It's just my Dad and me. Only I stay with my godparents a lot and my Dad's cleaner Rosa looks after me a lot when Dad's working."

"You have a cleaner? You must be rich!"

"No," Lilly shook her head," Well, we're not poor and we have a big house, but Rosa cleans my Dad's office and some other offices at the University where my Dad works. She just sits with me, or I go around and help her clean; I do the dusting."

There was a short pause, where both the children looked down at the ground.

"Do you want to be friends?" Clive asked after a while.

"Yes, please."

* * *

**AN: How did that turn out? I'm not too sure... Was it crappy?**

* * *

**Anyway, please make my day and leave a review- even if it's a bad one!**

**Anastasia xx**


	17. Bullies 3

**AN: Just a quick note to say that this short story will be 4 chapters long instead of six.  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Lillyesque

Bullies

* * *

"Dad!" Lilly cried, bouncing of the sofa, as her Father came into his office after a long day of work. Carelessly, she darted forward towards him and wrapped her arms and legs around him, so that she was dangling in mid-air.

"Well, well, someone's very happy," her Father chuckled, as Lilly, beaming happily, jumped down from her Father and ran back to the sofa.

The young girl threw herself down on the green sofa, just as Rosa, Layton's cleaner and Lilly's 'unofficial babysitter', made her way into the office from the small, adjoining kitchen. Her grey hair was scraped back into a ponytail, with a few strands of silver hair cascading down the side of her face. Her green eyes glittered with the usual sparkle, which matched the green shoes and she wore a pink jumper with black trousers. She carried a tray, which held the Professor's tea, Lilly's blackcurrant and a plate of biscuits. She placed the tray down on the table in front of the sofa and was about to pick up the tea to hand it to her employer. Suddenly, however, Lilly jumped off the sofa- again- over the table and over to her Father's desk where she switched on the gramophone. Hastily, the middle-aged woman pushed the tea out of the way of the nine-year-old, savouring the beverages, plates and biscuits.

"Be careful, young lady! What've I been telling you?" Rosa tutted, in her thick cockney accent.

Cheekily, Lilly grinned back at her and shrugged as her father shook his head. Rolling her eyes, Rosa began to puff up the cushions which she'd already done three times since the Lilly had arrived. Both the adults watched the young girl as she pulled out a record from the cupboard and placed it in. Soon after, the sound of a piano began to blast through the room.

"_Don't ask me, what you know is true_..." Lilly sang to the music, as she began to spin around the room slowly," _Don't have to tell you, I lov_e_ your precious heart. I. I was standing. You were there. Two worlds collided. And they could never tear us apart!" _

Sighing wistfully, Rosa handed the cup of tea to the Professor and they both watched the girl in wonder as she galloped and sang.

"_We could live, for a thousand years. But if I hurt you, I'd make wine from your tears._" Lilly sang,"_ I told you, that we could fly. 'Cause we all have wings, but some of us, don't kno__w why!"_

As the song went on and the voice of the singer's grew louder, so did Lilly's. And, eventually, her voice did grow into a shout. Shaking his head, Layton turned the music off and it did take a while for Lilly to notice._  
_

"_I. I was standing, you where there, two worlds collided. And they could nev..." _Lilly came to a halt, as she realised that the music had been turned off. Sheepishly, Lilly jumped back onto the sofa and took a bite out of one of the biscuits.

"So, then," Layton began," What's made you so happy?"

" A boy," Lilly replied, innocently.

"A... boy?" Layton asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Lilly confirmed.

"I told you she'd be a hit with the lads as she got older, professor," Rosa chuckled.

"But... she is nine," Layton pointed out. His face had turned a pale shade of white, however he did look slightly amused," So what about this _boy _then Lilly?"

"His name's Clive Dove. He lives in a foster home, because both of his parents died in a fire and he's ten," Lilly recited.

"Oh, poor lad," Rosa sympathised.

"He's nice though. And my friend," Lilly told them, proudly.

"Just a friend?" Rosa teased.

"Of course!" Lilly exclaimed," What else would he be?"

"You just wait and see, me' darlin'," Rosa laughed," I bet when you're all grown up and a lovely little lady, you'll be married to him."

* * *

**AN: Just a short chapter, sorry! But, hey, it's an update, right? **

**Also ... Any requests?  
**

**Anastasia xx  
**


	18. Bullies 4

**AN: … And we have reached 100 REVIEWS! :D Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and congratulations to **_Blackshadow the Fangirl_**, who was the 100th reviewer! **

**Anyhow, enjoy this chapter!**

**Review?**

* * *

Lillyesque

Bullies

* * *

"Lilly and Clive sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" the children chanted, hastily.

Desperately, Lilly looked around, only to find more children appearing from every angle. They seemed to be surrounding her, closing in at every angle. Beginning to feel claustrophobic, Lilly felt the perspiration swim across her palms and her heart begin to race. They all seemed to be coming from every angle, a never-ending number of cruel, mocking laughter.

As the tears began to brim, Lilly turned to the boy standing next to her. She didn't know what he would do, she didn't know if there was anything anyone could do, but still, it helped. Weren't friends there to make things better? To cut out the rest of the taunting, mimicking, unfair world? Though she'd never had a friend before, she'd carefully studied all the other friendship groups in her class. She'd watched them fall in and out and then, occasionally, back in again, so many times that sometimes the situations could be repeated.

There, Clive was standing. His fists clenched and his teeth gritted firmly together. His face had gone a strange colour and he looked angry, but somehow, also content.

"Go away!" he growled.

"Make us!" Penelope Flicker laughed.

"I will!" Clive threatened.

"Go on then," Penelope replied, placing her hands on her hips, maintaining a physique that certainly didn't look good, on a girl of her age.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Clive warned.

Before anyone had a chance to respond, the young boy marched forward towards her and threw his fist at her, hard. Her scream echoed through the air, causing all the other children to stare and whimper- some even cowered away. Through a mess of blonde locks, Penelope's face emerged. Blood was heavily pouring from her nose, but that wasn't the only thing that made her look different. Her nose also seemed to be swelling and pointing a different direction.

As Penelope's tears began to fall, she turned to run. But Clive was fast. Without hesitation, he pushed her to the ground. She collapsed in a heap, onto the stony playground, shrieking pleads of 'please stop' and 'get off'. But Clive didn't stop. He didn't even stop to think. He just carried on kicking her and punching her.

Lilly was frozen. She'd never liked Penelope, the girl had been bullying her since foundation, but she didn't want _this _to happen. She wouldn't wish any harm on anybody. Yet, here was her best friend- her only friend- pounding someone to pieces! She didn't know what to do, she was too reluctant to take either option, that she resulted in not moving a muscle. She froze.

"Clive? Clive Dove!" the headmaster yelled, coming over, closely followed by a lunchtime supervisor.

Reluctantly, he stopped and looked up at the bald man. His nostrils were flared and his face had gone a fiery red. Clive looked up, innocently, but still with a smug glare in his green eyes.

"Yes, sir," he greeted, arrogantly.

"What on earth did you think you were doing?!" he demanded to know," To my office now!"

With that, Clive was dragged off to by the Headmaster and into the school building, where he disappeared from sight. And Lilly was left alone, once again.

-X-

It was halfway through the afternoon and no one had heard anything about Clive, since the incident at lunch. Penelope had been taken to A&E by declare of the school nurse, who had said that she had a broken nose and could have been internally injured, due to Clive's 'irrational' beatings. Other than that, however, neither Lilly or any of the other members of her class had heard a word.

The teacher, Miss Wells, was teaching a Maths lesson when the receptionist appeared at the door.

"Could Lillian Layton please report to the Headmaster."

With a quick nod from the teacher, Lilly got up, trembling with fright, and followed the receptionist to the Headmaster's office. The corridors were dull and dreary. _The perfect place for a school, _Lilly thought to herself. There were a few displays, but the only windows were situated in the offices and classrooms, which lined the walls, so there was only weak, manmade light. As they reached the Headmaster's office, the receptionist knocked on the oak door, then ushered the young brunette inside before leaving herself.

"Hello, Lillian," he said, softly- though it was obvious anger was still there.

"Hello, Sir," Lilly replied, shaking.

"Please, sit down," the middle-aged man said, gesturing to a seat, which looked like the kind the teachers would sit on, while teaching a class.. It was black metal, but had thick, blue cushions stuck to the back and the base. Gingerly, Lilly took the seat," After the incident at lunchtime, I understand that you were involved..."

"N... No. I wasn't!" Lilly protested, fearfully. What would her Father say if she got excluded?!

"Do not fear, Lillian. I only wish to hear your side of the story."

"O...K."

"So, what happened?"

"Well, Clive and me were talking when everyone else started to say things about us," Lilly explained," Then, Clive told them to stop, but Penelope said she wouldn't. Then Clive punched her, then pushed her to the ground and started kicking her."

"Very well, then," the Headmaster sighed," Is there anyone else who you think may have been a relevant eyewitness?"

"Everyone," Lilly shrugged," They were all there."

"Okay, you may go now," the Headmaster dismissed the young girl.

Relieved that it was over, Lillian jumped down from the seat and made her way towards the door. She stopped in her tracks, as she began to wonder...

"Sir," she said, turning back to face the man.

"Yes, Lillian?"

"Where is Clive?"

"He's been expelled. We can not tolerate violence in our school, Lillian."

"Oh, okay," Lillian said, giving a small smile, then left the office.

As she made her way down the corridor, she realised something: nothing had changed. Clive had hurt someone, wanting to protect her and himself. And how had it ended? He'd been sent away... And she hadn't even said goodbye. Now, everything would be how it had been less than a week ago. She'd have no friends.

But, really, it didn't matter. Now, she knew how to get through it. She just had to keep her head down and try hard in lessons- no matter how hard. Then maybe one day, she would find another fried. Or even better, she would meet Clive Dove again.

* * *

**AN: And it's finished!**

**I will get **_Old and New Faces _up **as soon as I can. It's already been written, but I need to get some other stories updated first!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this!**

**Thanks to all the people who have been reviewing, and to those lovely people who haven't said hello, fancy leaving a comment? ;D**

**The next chapter will be about the 1952 London smog- when Lilly was 3, so will be from Claire's perspective. Then, I will get on with the brilliant requests you guys have sent!  
Remember, if you have an idea, don't be afraid to say!**

**Anastasia xx**


	19. Smog

**AN: Just a quick note to say **_Old and New Faces _**has been uploaded!**

* * *

Lillyesque

Smog

Claire's POV

* * *

_Age: 3_

_Date: December 1952_

_Games?: Set before LS/SC but spoilers for LF/UF_

* * *

I glanced out of the window, upon the thick, grey smog and sighed. The pollution levels had been increasing, but none of us had listened and now, this was our price. For the foreseeable future, we'd all be cloaked in a cloud of smoke and sulfur dioxide. We'd done experiments on it at work, according to our results the smog would stay, until the weather would pick up and a breeze would appear. Funnily enough, there was no wind predicted for the next few days, although it was December. Then again, to lift all this smog, we'd need a lot of wind.

I shut the curtains and turned back around and stared at my daughter, who was still sound asleep in her bed. Gently, I reached out and stroked her soft, brown hair. Slowly, she opened her blue eyes and stared at me.

"Mummy?" she whispered.

"Good morning, sweetheart," I smiled.

As her eyes began fluttering, I left her to it. It was only six thirty and she probably hadn't slept much anyway. It wasn't like she was going to get up soon, either.

-X-

"Where's Lillian? Hershel asked, as I made my way into the living room.

"In bed," I replied, looking up at him. Unlike me, he was fully-dressed in his black trousers, red waistcoat and cap, I raised my eyebrows as I stood there in my cream dressing gown," Why are you dressed?"

"So I can go to the university," Hershel answered, giving me a confused look.

I was silent in standstill for a few seconds, before shaking it off and managing to speak.

"No," I shook my head," None of us are going out."

"What? Claire, you can't be serious..." he began.

"Oh, I'm serious," I protested, firmly, knowing that this could very well end in a fight," Until this smog clears up, none of us are going out."

"Look, Claire," he started to say," I know we've been recommended to stay inside, but for all we know, this smog could get worse, so we should go out while it's at least a bit safer."

"No," I repeated," It's dangerous, if we breathe it in, it could kill us. Lillian is only three; it's more harmful to her then any of us."

I stood my ground, while Hershel took a seat on the armchair, which faced the cheap television. He sighed and leaned forward, cupping his face with his hand. Fighting was something we did rarely, since we had both the same ideas and opinions about everything. However, there was always something that we didn't agree on. Normally, we could get through our differences, but there was always a small chance that we'd end up in a argument. We were no different from any other couple.

"But we have no idea how long this smog will last. What about work, food, or other supplies?" Hershel asked, trying to catch me out, luckily I had a an answer for everything.

"I went shopping yesterday, because I knew this smog was going to get worse," I answered, smugly," We've been told to stay inside, so I doubt we'll be the only ones _not _appearing at work- or in your incase the university."

"Which is still work!" Hershel reminded me.

"Oh, just because you're getting paid for it, doesn't make it work!" I snapped, getting very irritated," Look, we're not going out today and that's that."

"It's just fog..."

"Mixed with smoke and sulfur dioxide! I grew up with asthma and I'm not risking my daughter getting it, or harmed in any other way! Now, I'm ending this conversation," I announced, rather loudly, making my way out of the living room. Just as I made my way out of the living room, I was reminded of something," Oh, and we're only using electricity if we have to. Over using electricity is what's caused this."

-X-

Later that evening, Lillian sat at the table drawing, while Hershel and me where reading. It had been a long day, and even I had to admit it, a boring one too. We'd had nothing to do, so had taken to playing board games, which is an extremely hard thing to do, with a three year old. Also, there was still the chance Hershel and I would fall back into an argument with the tension still there, like the smog.

Finally, we gave in and switched the television on for a few minutes, to watch the news and to see what damages the smog had done.

"...It has been estimated that two thousand and five hundred people have already died thanks to the smog that has been plaguing London..." the news reporter read.

"See," I said, seeming way too happy with myself, when hundreds of people across London had died," It's dangerous."

He rolled his eyes at me, then switched the television off, then went back to his book. I turned around to face Lillian, who hadn't even looked up from her drawing. Looking at her, I knew there was no way I was going to let her out of my sight. Ever.

* * *

**AN: You may think that some parts where sort of OOC, but just because the games only show Layton and Claire fluff, doesn't mean they didn't have fights.**

**Like I said, **Old and New Faces **Lilly's second story is up and is set during Spectre's Call/Last Specter.**

**Also, requests! Remember, you can request anything: babies, weddings, pranks, fluff etc. Any genre! ANYTHING I will do!**

**Also, during the Great London smog, it is estimated that 12,000 people died in total.**

**Anastasia xx**


	20. Nightmare

**AN: Two possibly retarded children are spinning round and round, behind me, while I'm trying to write this, so my apologies if it comes out rubbish. **

**This is a request from Redsparrow3 **'_One where Flora or Lilly have a nightmare and go to the other to talk about it'_

_**Please note **that this takes place when Lilly was helping Clive and Dimitri plan Future London._

* * *

Lillyesque

Nightmare

_Age: 16_

_Year: February 1965_

_Games: Set just before Lost/Unwound future and spoilers for it. **Read note at top AN for more info.**_

* * *

Bright red, orange flames were swirling up through the air as if they were dancing. Smoke was rising through the air and I could smell the metallic stench of burning metal. Shrieking cries, desperate for help and full of fear, echoed throughout the rays of fire and swam through the room. I wanted to help them, I tried. Honestly, I did! But I couldn't. The further I ran into the flames, the further away the screams became. Whoever needed help, was being taken further and further away.

Then, the flames,screams and smoke disappeared and I found myself lying in my bed. Breathing deeply and with sweat dripping down my forehead, I looked around, searching for even the slightest bit of evidence that it wasn't a dream- even though I was certain it was. The only light was coming from the sun outside, through the lavender curtains, and there was no smoke.

Sighing in relief, I glanced up at the grandfather clock, by my door. It read ten past five. No one would be up for another hour and twenty minutes, at least, but still, I got up. Somehow, I was too tired to sleep.

Stretching, I got out of bed, throwing the linen sheets back and wrapped myself around my silk, purple dressing gown. Slowly and sleepily, I trudged downstairs and into the kitchen and began to boil the kettle. Once the water began to bubble, I mixed it with some coffee granules in a mug, then made my way to the living room, where I sat curled up, in a ball. Then, I began to think.

I'd had that same dream for ten years now. Each time, it was exactly the same. When the dreams had first began, they came every night, but over time they had began to fade, however, they did tend to come every Mother's day. Now, that things were beginning to pick up, I knew they'd be making my way through my imagination, a lot more often. Maybe even more than every night.

I knew what the dreams meant, I knew who was screaming in my dreams. It was my Mother, the scene of my Mother's death.

Of course, I wasn't there to see her die, but when I'd driven past on the way home from school, I'd caught a glimpse of her lifeless body. Many times, Dad had tried to take me to see our GP about it, as he was certain it had taken some effect on me, but I'd refused. Even though I was only six at the time, we'd swiftly obeyed. I'd never told him about the nightmares, I may not have been the most intelligent person on the planet, but I wasn't stupid. There was no way I was going to see a counsellor or therapist about nothing. I had told people of course, I'd told Flora when I'd woken up screaming last Mother's day and I'd told a couple of friends. At first, I was reluctant to let anyone know, but once it was out, I'd noticed it became better. But still, I was _not _going to see a therapist about it. Ever.

To be honest, I was actually pretty surprised that it had taken this long for the dreams to start re-appearing again. Now, I was helping Dimitri and Clive on our plan to capture and kill Bill Hawks, the man who basically killed my Mother. I was more than surprised about the sudden change in my life and I was terrified. But this wasn't something I could back down from, not now. Because of the Prime Minister, my Mother had died prematurely. She hadn't of deserved to die, but she had. And yes, it was too late to do anything about her death, but that didn't mean we couldn't punish those who caused it.

To kill the Prime Minister though, that was our biggest problem. Not killing him, that part of the plan had been complete. We just had to get to him. Once we had done that, set up our plan and killed those deserving, we would be the most wanted criminals in the UK. I knew there was the chance that this could end in being prisoned for the rest of my life, but me and Clive had plans. Several in fact. The first one: Run. The only problem was where. We both knew that this plan would probably fail after a fortnight or so, but it was the one that the both of us preferred the most. Then there was the second one... Which I didn't know. Clive had told me that it was a last resort and for my own safety, that I should not know until it was time. The final plan: Die. Whether it would have to be suicide, euthanasia or maybe even an accident. It was something that we had to consider.

It was a high price to pay, but it was worth it. If dying was something I had to do to complete my revenge, it would be what I would do.

"Lilly?" a voice said.

-X-

Suddenly, there was Flora standing in front of, curiously. Slightly confused, I realised I must have fallen asleep without realising it. It was a lot lighter outside now, clearly a lot later in the morning, even if it was really only two hours, or so.

"What are you doing down here?" Flora asked, taking a a seat beside me, as I pulled my leg away.

"I could ask you the same thing," I pointed out, grudgingly.

"But I wasn't asleep," Flora smirked.

"That wasn't what you asked," I yawned," If you meant, 'why am I asleep down here'? The answer is, because I couldn't sleep, so I came down here... And ironically fell asleep."

"O...K," Flora muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"What time is it, anyway?" I asked, trying to sit up, despite the banging in my head, which didn't seem to want to even slightly fade.

"Six fifteen," Flora replied.

"Oh, I haven't been down her long, then," I thought aloud.

"So, why couldn't you sleep?" Flora asked.

"Because..." I said, thinking for any excuse, no matter how random," There was this really annoying bird, outside my window, which wouldn't stop chirping."

"Come on, Lil," Flora grinned," Even I can see through that."

"Well, maybe it should be obvious, that I don't want to speak about what was keeping me up, then," I told her, grumpily.

"Was it..." Flora leaned in closer, as if she were scared of speaking about it," Was it the nightmare?"

It took a while for me to respond, but eventually, I gave her a small smile and nodded.

"You need to tell the professor..." Flora began.

"No," I replied, flatly, but firm," I am _not _telling Dad about something so small. You know what he does; he blows the tiniest thing out of proportion."

"But this isn't a tiny thing," Flora protested," You need help..."

"I am not mad!" I spat, suddenly.

A lump all of a sudden appeared in my throat, as I realised what I had just said. Flora looked taken aback and quickly, yet somehow casually, left the room. Feeling suddenly sick, I leaned back in my seat.

'I am not mad'... The words of someone, who were completely the opposite.

* * *

**AN: Okay, this was quite... weird. Dark. I don't know how to describe it.**

**Anyway, the reason for this, was not just **_Redsparrow3'_**s request, but **_MikuLover _**know about why Lilly was in an asylum. Can you see why now?**

**Anastasia xx**

**PS. **_Old and Mew Faces _**aka Spectre's Call/Last Specter has been published! R&R!**


	21. Christmas Eve

**AN: So, unless I am completely stuck for ideas, it will go 'my own idea' then 'request'. **

**Enjoy! Review!**

* * *

Lillyesque

Christmas Eve

_Age: 34 years old_

_Date: December, 1983_

* * *

"I don't care if you want your present now. You can get your presents tomorrow morning," I sharply told, Izzy, my eight year old daughter, as I rummaged through the cupboards checking if I needed any other ingredients for the Christmas dinner," And no searching!" I added, firmly, as I made my way out of the kitchen, towards the living room.

"I've already tried; I couldn't find anything," Izzy replied, following me through the house.

"Exactly, so don't bother anymore!" I replied, hastily, even though I knew Izzy wouldn't find her Christmas present. Not unless she broke into her grandfather's house, anyway.

I sighed, as I picked up my other daughter's shoes, from the middle of the floor and placed them back on the shoe-rack. Why did Christmas have to be so stressful? It wasn't the twenty-fifth until tomorrow, but I had a never-ending list of jobs to do and so many children nagging me that I hadn't gotten the one thing I'd wanted- and probably needed. A cup of tea and five minutes to sit down. Though my normal life was hectic, I had time during the day to have a few minutes to myself (during my lunch break of course). But now it was the school holidays, I was stuck at home, with more jobs to do involving children than at work!

"Please!" Izzy whimpered," I'll do anything! Just one tiny hint! Please?!"

"No," I replied, through gritted teeth," If you want to be helpful, go upstairs and tell Violet and James that I'm going to the shop and if they want anything, they need to say now, because the shops close in an hour for two days!"

With that short outburst, Izzy ran out of the room, her strawberry blonde hair (the only sign of my first marriage), chasing after her. Tutting, I picked up my brown handbag from the coat hanger and waited by the door. A few seconds later, three children bombarded me with ideas for sweets and chocolates.

"It's Christmas tomorrow!" I cried, breaking through their cries, worse than silence," You will get thousands of sweets tomorrow, so I do not wish to hear any of you ask for treats!"

"Then why did you ask if we wanted anything?" James, my only son and first child, queried. He was fifteen years old now and looked much more like his father than anyone else. His hair was blonder than his sister's, but he did have my blue eyes that had stayed the same, since he was a baby.

"I meant what you wanted for dinner, or a certain flavour of crisps for tomorrow," I shrugged," Now is anyone coming with me?"

"I will, Mummy! I will, I will, I will!" Violet, the youngest shouted, jumping up and down. Seeing as she was my second husband, Clive's, child, she looked rather different from James and Izzy. She had dark brown locks, slightly darker than mine, but all her other features were inherited from her Father. She had his brown eyes, his small nose and heart shaped face. As a three year old, (who would be four tomorrow) it was hard to determine her figure, but she I was certain that she was a lot shorter than her siblings had been.

"Shoes and coat, then," I instructed, taking my own coat off from the hanger- my shoes were already on my feet.

-X-

"How many hours till Santa?" Flora giggled, hopelessly at her husband, Luke.

It was clear she was drunk. Very drunk. Well, as drunk as you can get on three glasses of wine, a whisky and a double shot. Looking back on the days when she was just a teenager, I realised I'd never of expected her to turn out like this. Well, she was very successful- a lot more than me, anyway- but now, I seemed to be the sensible one. I'd kept sober, by drinking lemonade and one spritza. There had to be one woman who was sober, so they could place the stockings into the children's bedrooms- the men always ended up laughing uncontrollably, or waking them up some other way.

"They've only been in bed twenty minutes," I replied," I don't know about Alice, but my children take forever to go to sleep."

"Oh, they're no different there, Lilly," Luke told me, trying to peel his inebriated wife of him. Dad was looking at them in disgust, like me, wondering what on earth had happened to Flora," Alice never sleeps. She comes down every other night complaining she can't sleep."

"She is only five," Clive pointed out," Violet's a year younger than her and she does that."

"Hmm," I nodded in agreement.

Staring at Flora, beginning to feel slightly sick, as it looked like she was trying to 'get it on' with Luke on my sofa.

"Would you like to go to bed you two, or would you like us to leave the room?" I offered, sarcastically.

All I got in reply, was a murmur of giggles and whispers to Luke which sounded like very vivid details of what she wanted to do to him later. Cringing at Dad's face, I thought about how Flora and my roles had reversed. When we were teenagers, I'd been older than Flora only physically. Even though there was only a year between us, Flora had been a lot more sensible than me. However, I was now a lot more sensible and hadn't gotten drunk since my wedding to Clive.

Flora only had one child and had married Luke two years before. She had a better job than me too, working at a fashion firm and in Wembley, while I taught art, design, textiles and music in a secondary school. Really no competition at all. She had more money, with Luke now being a Professor of archaeology, and her high-paid and very stable job, while we got by with three children, a teacher's wage and a journalist that wrote one column a week. Maybe it would have been different if I'd tried harder at school.

"They're sleeping down here anyway," Clive reminded me.

"Ugh, somebody put a sheet down," I muttered, turning to Dad, who had been very quiet, while sitting in the armchair drinking his whisky," Would you like to go to bed, Dad?"

"Perhaps I should..." Dad replied.

"Us too," I said, motioning to Clive. Slowly and tiredly, he got up.

"What about the stockings?" Clive asked.

"I'll do them a bit later," I replied," I'm not tired, and I still have loads of marking to do for the next term."

"If you're not tired, don't go to bed," Luke told me.

"No, I really don't want to be in here while watching my sister do _that _to you," I smirked.

"Goodnight then," Luke nodded.

"Have fun, kids," I joked, leaving the room, after Dad and Clive. After a few steps out of the room, I turned back," Oh, and I wasn't joking about the sheet."

* * *

**AN: Kinda sexual this one. Oh well, I think it was funny.**

**Am really ill at the moment and will be for the foreseeable future, so updates may be slower. I promise I will try really hard! :)**

**Hopefully this one will give more ideas for requests, seeing as it's when Lilly's older.**

**Come on, guys! I will literally do any request!**

**Anastasia xx**


	22. Photographs

**AN: Hello, my dear readers! **

**This is a request from Rosebubbles1234 who said: **_Can I suggest a song for a songfic- chapter? If I can, I miss you by Miley Cyrus. If I can't, __Lilly searching through her mom's things and then she finds hundreds of photos of her, Claire and the Professor and pictures of Claire and Layton in college._**  
**

* * *

Lillyesque

Photographs

_Age:__ 16  
_

_Year: 1965  
_

_Games?: Spoilers for Lost/Unwound Future and set just after the events took place_

* * *

I sat silently at the kitchen table, with the cup of coffee sitting there, just as quiet. I rubbed my swollen, red eyes and resisted the constant urge to yawn. I was tired; I hadn't slept for more than half an hour in turn in three days. However, I couldn't sleep. The constant fear, worry, regret and grief was keeping me from doing anything apart from stare. I even had to keep reminding myself to breathe. Though, to be honest, I didn't even want to breathe.

In an attempt to distract myself, I weakly got up and turned the radio on. A song I vaguely recognised from the charts a year or two ago, came on. It was near the end of the song, so it didn't take long to finish. Then, ironically, the next song that came on matched my feelings perfectly. Well, one of the many emotions, anyway. But that was enough. And maybe if I focused on only one of my emotions bubbling through my veins, maybe I could get over them all quicker. Well, I wasn't going to get over my guilt for trying to kill the Prime Minister any time soon, but maybe it would help calm the reason why I'd attempted murder: Mum.

_You used to call me your angel_  
_Said I was sent straight down from heaven_  
_You'd hold me close in your arms_

Having Mum die when I was six had obviously changed the course of my life. After all, if she wouldn't have died, I wouldn't have been then worrying about my trial at court in three days time. I'd grown up without the person a young girl needs the most and although I'd had many other female role-models, they'd always left my life at some point. Then again, they'd never been able to match up to the her anyway. And no one else would ever be able to.

_I loved the way you felt so strong_  
_I never wanted you to leave_  
_I wanted you to stay here holding me_

Now, I'd seen her again. Just a matter of days ago. Then, she'd been whipped away just like before. Although this time we had been given the chance to say goodbye. Though not a proper goodbye, we hadn't been able to do it in our own time. With the pressure against her and Dad, who were trying to stop me from killing Bill Hawks, we hadn't exactly gotten time to speak properly. Considering I'd wanted to kill Bill Hawks, because it was him who had killed Mum, once I'd seen Mum, I'd stopped acting like an utter psychopath.

Though that hadn't meant I'd stopped being one. After the events had unravelled, Dad had forced me to go straight to the GP and they'd referred me to a psychiatrist, who I'd seen the next day. According to her, I had a severe case of clinical depression and was bipolar. To be honest, I didn't need to be told that, I could have figured it out for myself (Dad probably already had too). And knowing it had probably made it worse.

Thinking back to the appointment, I remembered that she had said 'try looking through your Mum's things if you can't stop thinking about her.'

_I miss you_  
_I miss your smile_  
_And I still shed a tear_  
_Every once in a while_

I got up and raced (the fastest I had in days) up the stairs and up into the loft. I knew Dad had kept so many things up there and occasionally (and secretly) he would go up there and look- I'd caught him more than once. Once I was on the landing, I picked up the stick by the hallway, hooking the door to the attic and pulling it down. Then, I unhooked the ladder and pulled it down, too, before climbing up.

Entering the dark, barely-used room at the top of the house, a burst of dust found its way into my face. Coughing and spluttering, I grasped hold of the rotting banister, at the side of the entrance and then began feeling my way around for the light switch. I found it after a few moments, and once it had been switched on, the light made its way through the room like fire.

After searching through a few boxes of old clothes and (strangely) a broken clock, I came across a box filled with envelopes, which contained photos. Curiously, I opened the first one that came to sight and opened it. The first photo, coincidentally, was of Mum. She looked a lot younger than the last time I'd seen her, so it had obviously been many years before her death. Looking on the back of the black and white photgraph, I saw a scribbled note which read '_Claire Foley- 07/04/1947'. _

1947? That was eight years before she perished. She would have been nineteen and just started University. Nineteen... That looked about right. Looking at my Mother this young did seem strange, even though it was just a photograph. It was hard to imagine that she was once this. And back then, she had no idea what would come of her.

_And even though it's different now_  
_You're still here somehow_  
_My heart won't let you go_  
_And I need you to know_

I felt like I'd disappointed her. She'd left University for a year to have me and had nearly given up her career for me. Then, when she died (because of an 'accident' at work) I was left heart-broken and confused. Once I'd found out it was Bill Hawks' fault, I'd decided to take revenge, even if it meant I'd end up in jail for the rest of my life. I felt that I owed it to her, but when she came back and found out what I was doing, she pretended to be calm, but I could see the pain and disappointment in her eyes.

When we'd said our final goodbye, she'd said that what I'd done was wrong, and I shouldn't have done it, but she said she was still proud. But who could be proud of their daughter for doing something like that? How could she sleep peacefully knowing that her daughter had turned into a psychopath?

_I know you're in a better place, yeah_  
_But I wish that I could see your face, oh_  
_I know you're where you need to be_  
_Even though it's not here with me_

Placing the photograph back safely, I took out the next one, to find that it was another photo of Mum. Only this one, had Dad and me in. According to the date on the back, the picture was taken in March, 1952 making me nearly three. I was smiling, we all were. How was it, that a family like us, once so happy and full of life, had now been torn apart?

I looked through more of the photographs and soon found that they were all of Mum, either in college, or once she'd had me. A few she was alone in, but most had either me and Dad in. I even found one of the day she had me, in hospital.

_I miss you_  
_I miss your smile_  
_And I still shed a tear_  
_Every once in a while_

Once I'd looked at all of them at least twice, I put them all back, careful so as not to scratch them, then took them down to my room.

Mum may have died not completely happy with the way I'd turned out. But I needed her and if this would be the closest I would get, then it would be what I would have to take.

And even though it's different now  
You're still here somehow  
My heart won't let you go  
And I need you to know

* * *

**AN: Don't own **_I Miss You _**either.**

**Hope you enjoyed it!  
**

**Will try and update Old and New Faces soon! **

**Anastasia xx**


	23. First Love 1

**AN: And it's been ages. Yeah, sorry. But seen as this is a multi-chapter I decided to write them all out before publishing. Sorry again, but I hope this means the updates for it will come quicker if it's all been written and you won't have to wait ages for the ending.**

**Also, I'm getting about three to four hours of homework a night at the moment, meaning, what. I get home at 3:30, so four hours later it's seven thirty, so then I'll have to have a break from the computer (all my homework is mostly on the computer) and then at eight I have dinner, so it isn't till eight that I have sometime to work, but there's always the chance I'll have something to do or I'll be tired. Then on weekends, I'll be out, visiting family- a lot of people in my family are very sick at the moment. Also, I've started visiting old people's care homes on Saturday afternoons, too, now. I don't have that much time. Yeah, I get that you don't want to know my daily routine, but even though I write most of a story before uploading it, I still don't even have time to upload it, so I'm just trying to explain why my updates won't be coming as much as they used to! I've even had to let down the people I beta (there are 4 of them) for you guys, so I have more time to work on these. **

**Anyway, sorry for my rambling. Just thought I should let you know why. Make me update faster- believe me, I can force myself to do things- and review! :)**

* * *

Lillyesque

First Love

_Age:__ 15_

_Date:__ April, 1965_

_Games?:__ Set after Curious Village, but before Pandora's/Diabolical Box, but NO spoilers! :)_

* * *

The lunchtime bell ripped through the silent classroom air like a strike of neon lightning. Immediately, and as if it was some sort of chemical reaction, all the students in the classroom looked up from their work, grabbed their bags and coats, then rushed out of the classroom, even before the textiles teacher, Miss Willoughby, could dismiss them. Amongst the swarm of students, I scrabbled and wiggled through the door, at the same time as two other girls. Even once I was out into the corridors, it was still a tight squeeze, since hundreds (it seemed) of other adolescents were streaming out of their classrooms and into the corridors. Not being that affected by the crowd as it was what I went through every time a lesson ended, I pulled my black and pink, floral bag tighter over my shoulder and made my way to the diner, where I would be meeting my friends- none of whom, had just had the same class as me.

The diner was just as crowded, but seeing as we always seemed to 'bagsy' the same table, they were relatively easy to find (sometimes the herds made every table appear the same). Once I found the girls, I settled down next to them, deciding to wait until the lunch queue had died down, before I got something to eat. I soon realised I was the last one to arrive, having to take the only spare seat, which was in between two of my friends, Jade and Katerina. Previously, it'd just been a trio between Penelope, Diane and me, but after a 'disappointing' Ofsted report back in February, Diane's snobbish Mother had removed her from the school and out her into a private school. We still kept in touch of course, but obviously, it wasn't a possibility during school hours.

Having being streamed for our O-levels, since we were mostly taking different options (I was the only one taking textiles- the others were either taking culinary science or graphic design) we'd all met different people and brought different people to join us at lunchtimes. To be specific, Jade, Katerina and Tia (who was sitting opposite me) had all been together in one group, but Penelope had met Katerina and Tia in culinary science, while I'd met Jade in French and graphics. Then, Penelope had introduced Kat and Tia to me, insisting we'd get on, and then found that we all had art together (except for Jade, who had physical education) and eventually, we all drifted together.

"Hi," Penelope greeted.

"How was textiles?" Tia asked.

"Normal- just worked on coursework," I shrugged, "How was cooking?"

"Same as you, I suppose," Katerina answered, "Just worked on our coursework. We're still doing that biscuit thing."

"Still?!" Jade exclaimed, "It's been what? Four weeks, five?"

"This is only the third," Tia replied, slowly, smiling.

"Oh," Jade said, in her strong Essex accent, as we all laughed.

"What about you two?" I began, turning to Jade and Penelope, as I stole a chip of Tia's plate and she swatted my hand away, "How was graphics?"

"Do you even need an answer?" Penelope grinned, "What do you think we did? The same as you, obviously; coursework."

"Well, anything interesting happen?" Katerina questioned, rolling her eyes.

"Believe me, we'd have told you by now if anything had," Jade pointed out.

We all nodded in agreement, as I stole another chip off of Tia's plate- I was starving, I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and for that I only had one piece of toast. It was a good thing I hadn't had physical education earlier that day, as last time I didn't have time to eat at break, I'd had cross-country session three. Believe me, five times around the field versus a very empty stomach and weak muscles, _does _end up with the unfortunate- and starving- person, on the floor, with all the energy drained from them. The teachers had gone berserk, saying that it was my own fault and that I had to treat myself better. Of course, I didn't have an eating disorder. I had when I was fourteen, but even then I'd been eating (I'd just been forcing myself to throw up afterwards); that day, I just simply didn't have the time to eat.

"Will you stop it!" Tia hissed, pulling her plate towards herself, scowling.

"Ooh, look there," Penelope smirked, gesturing towards something behind me, "Maybe that's something we should talk about."

I raised my eyebrows and sharply I turned around, expecting to see signs of a fight show up, somewhere amongst the already chaotic hall, but I couldn't see anything. Well, nothing out of the ordinary anyway. However, I did hear some strange hisses from the girls.

"Penelope!" I was certain I heard Kat whisper, in an irritated voice.

"What?" I asked turning around, curiously, "Have I fallen out of 'the crowd' again?"

"No," Penelope replied, smugly, "No, not exactly."

"Oh, Pen, be quiet; we promised we wouldn't tell," Jade said, though it did sound like she was holding back giggles.

"Wouldn't tell what?" I asked.

There was no reply, however, they all did exchange several big-eyed glances, between each other, before turning back to me, then down to face their food.

"Nothing," Tia replied, eating her chips, probably hoping that I wouldn't take anymore, "Nothing at all."

"Oh no," I shook my head, "Don't you give me that innocent tone."

"What innocent tone?" Tia asked, ironically in the same 'innocent' tone that I had just mentioned.

"Oh, come on!" I exclaimed, "You know you can't keep secrets from me! It's not like I'll tell anyone; if you guys already know, then I have no one else to tell!"

"Well, maybe we won't have to tell," Penelope smirked, looking up slightly from her food, as if to hide her quick glances.

"What?" I asked, again.

"Maybe someone else will tell you," Penelope replied, just as she and the other three, looked up and behind me.

Curiously, and desperate to know, I turned around to see what they were all looking at. Once I'd turned around, I saw someone standing behind me. A boy, in fact. Joe Richardson, a boy in our year, who I shared a few classes with. We sat on the same table in two, or perhaps three, of the classes which we shared and had been paired up one or twice, too. We'd spoken, but always about our work, never about anything else. Why was he here now. Was he here to see one of the other girls? He wasn't just standing there because his friends were behind us; he was there alone and looking at us nervously. In fact, he wasn't looking at _us. _He was looking at me!

With dark green eyes that seemed to slightly sparkle, he looked down at me and gave a small smile. His very dark, brown hair flopped over his forehead, hiding the corner of one of his eyes, though I was still able to see them clearly. Like all of us, he wore Gressenheller Secondary's school uniform; a black blazer and trousers (skirt if you were a girl), white shirt and tie (coloured depending on your year; it was red for us), with a plate of chips in his hand.

"Hi, Lilly," he said, nervously, to me.

"Hello," I said, back, wondering if... No... It couldn't be, "Actually, I prefer to be called 'Lil'. Just teachers call me 'Lilly' because it's more formal."

"Oh, well, hi anyway," he said.

"Well, hi. Again," I smiled.

"We have French and music together, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I nodded, "Why? Did you lose a homework sheet?"

From behind me, there was a burst of giggles, which I recognised as Jade's.

"Umm... No," he said, looking down, "The thing is, I was, well. I was wondering, whether you, would err..." he stopped and looked down. It looked as if he were trying to build up all the courage inside him, and when he looked back at me, it seemed to have worked. He looked a lot braver, "Lil, when we were working together in music, you said that you liked Skillet. Well, I've got tickets to their show at the Stadium for Friday. Would you like to come?"

"Err... I... Err... Yeah, I do like Skillet," I stuttered, confused and surprised, "Can you give me a minute? Oh, no, I tell you what; we have French after lunch. I'll tell you then, yeah?"

"Okay," he nodded, seeming motionless. Suddenly, he shook himself up and spoke again, "Yeah, sure. That's fine. Great, even."

"Okay, I'll see you in French then," I nodded.

"Yeah, I'll see you in French," he said, with a small wave of his hand, before walking off and away.

Once he had disappeared into the herded diner, with all the other chatty students, I turned around to my friends, who were all struggling not to laugh.

"Did he just ask m out?" I asked, "Like 'romantically' ask me out?"

"Yes, he did," Penelope smiled, as Kat let out a bubbly giggle.

"Well, I was not expecting that," I laughed, before the reality of it came into my head, "Oh! That was the first time I've been asked out."

"Yes it was," Jade nodded, "That took you a while to notice."

I squirmed, jumping up and down repetitively as the four girls laughed.

"He asked me out to see Skillet! I love Skillet!" I cried, happily, very aware of my hormonal, boy-crazy behaviour.

"I know you do," Kat laughed, "So do I; I'm so jealous. Joe's cute."

"I know," I grinned, "This sounds weird, but I think I've always fancied him, but never actually realised it."

Jade rolled her eyes and I had a feeling that I was showing typical behaviour, for someone who'd just been asked out.

"So, what are you going to say?" Tia asked.

"Err... I don't know," I said, calming down. Well, not exactly calming down, as I began to panic, instead.

"You're going to say yes," Jade told me.

"I am?" I asked.

"You are," she confirmed.

"Yes," I said, more to myself than others, "Yes, I am," I smiled to myself and began to jump up and down, again.

"Oh, please don't have an asthma attack," Kat said, sternly, rubbing my arm.

"Yes, please I don't," Penelope said.

I frowned, then got up deciding to go and get my lunch, now that the queue had died down quite a bit. Just as I was a few steps away, I turned back towards them.

"How long have you guys known he was going to ask me out?" I asked.

They all turned to each other, again giving a few awkward glances, before turning back to me.

"We didn't," Tia said, in her 'innocent' tone.

"Yeah, right," I laughed, "Seriously, how long?"

"Err... To be truthful, Lil, the whole school knew," Katerina explained.

"Really?" I queried, doubtfully, "Have foundies been running around screaming it?"

"Well, no... But everyone else. According to his friends, he's always though you were pretty, but he'd never spoken to you until you got put in the same class for some subjects."

"Oh," I said, feeling a lot more appreciated, then with a quick, flashy grin I spoke again, "Then I'll definitely say yes!"

**AN: So, I have a bit of explaining to do. **Katerina _(Doctor. )_, Jade** and **_Tia_** are all my mates, because I promised I'd put them in a story, and **_Penelope_** is an alter-ego for my friend** _(WhirlofDestruction)_ **who she's now disowned, but was going to write a story about and put **_Lilly_** in- I just ended up using her. Some of the stuff that was mentioned in this actually happened (e.g. I did faint in Cross-country for not eating properly) and I do love **_Skillet_**- so does**_ Katerina_**. The options that the characters are taking for O-levels are mostly what we're taking for our GCSEs.**

**Also, I don't own **_Skillet_ **and I do know they didn't exist in 1965, but let's pretend they do! :)**

**Any questions, just ask! Want your character in here, just ask! **

**If any of the stuff mentioned in here you'd like to know more about or have an idea for: request! ****I'd really lime some more requests for when Lilly's older, so flick back to those few chapters (There's only one at the top of my head **Christmas Eve) **and see if you want to know anything more about any of it! :)**

**This will be the last AN from me for a while, so that's why Im speaking loads! **

**I'm not asking for a review for every chapter, but every three or four is perfect! :)**

**Anastasia xx**

P.S. The AN for this chapter's been massive, but for the actual chapter the word count is: **1,918.**


	24. First Love 2

**L**illyesque

First Love

* * *

I made my way up the stairs of the languages block, before rushing into my languages block, with Jade. All of the other girls were across the other side of the school, doing religious education, as they'd chosen that and humanities instead of languages, like Jade and me had, for their O-levels. I scuttled into the classroom, along with the tall, hazel-haired girl, hoping that we hadn't both turned up too late for the lesson. The teacher, Miss Key, gave us a quick smile, not saying anything about turning up late to the lesson, as we took our seats. Jade, at the table at the back of the classroom and mine, on the middle table, two seats away from Joe, with one of his friends in between us.

Joe was already in his seat. I noticed that as I hurried into the classroom, that he was staring at me. Not in a bad, stalkerish way, but in a sweet sort of way. I gave a small grin back at him, just as I took my planner, homework and pencil-case out of my bag, before carelessly throwing it under the table and Miss Key began the register.

Once the register was over and done with, she set out the starter exercise by asking us all questions.

"Arthur, qu'avez-vous mangé pour le petit déjeuner?" Miss Key asked.

"J'ai eu du pain grillé," Arthur replied.

Miss Key questioned me.

"Il était très bon," I replied, smirking towards Joe. He smiled back and shook his head.

"Que faites-vous le Vendredi, Joe?" Miss Key asked, Joe. We both laughed slightly; was the teacher psychic?

"Je vais voir Skillet," Joe answered.

"Qui allez-vous avec?" she asked, further.

"Well, uh," Joe stuttered, forgetting we were in a French class and should be using French. I rolled my eyes and grinned.

"Je vais avec lui, Mademoiselle," I answered, with a cheeky grin.

A few 'oohs' and 'whistles' travelled through the room, like some type of chain reaction and knowing what we meant, Miss Key smiled and chuckled slightly. Joe looked at me and smiled, before turning towards his mates and giving them a cheeky grin. I heard Jade laugh at me from her table and I rolled my eyes, realising that this would definitely what we would be talking about the next day.

Once we were revising for our final reading and writing exam, whcih would take place in two weeks time, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw Joe, looking exactly how he had earlier; nervouse and cute.

"So you are coming on Friday, yeah?" he asked.

"Oui," I agreed, going back to French to see if he would, too. Or if Miss Key saw us, she would think we were working, not socialising.

"Great," he smiled, "So, shall I pick you up, or...?"

"No, I still have to ask my dad," I replied, "And even if he says yes, he'll insist on taking me."

"Oh," Joe sighed, "So, might you not be able to come?"

"Joe et Lilly, j'espère que vous parlez du travail," Miss Key said, rather loudly in a stern voice.

"Oui, Mademoiselle," I told her, nodding, before glancing back across at Joe and returning to French dialogue again, "Non, je suis sûr que je serai autorisé," I explained.

"Bon," James said, simply, then turned back to his work, and I turned back to mine.

-X-

I was now waiting outside the school, where the exit of the track was, waiting for Flora. She'd only been living with us three weeks and had only joined the school last week, so I still had to wait outside of whatever class she was in at the end of session six. Seen as it was Tuesday, she had physical education and had been doing atheltics in preparation for Sports Day, which took place just after our O-levels would be finished.

After a few minutes of waiting, Flora, along with several others, made her way out of the changing room. I smiled at her, as she came over to me, and she smiled back.

"How was school?" I asked.

"It was okay, I guess," Flora replied, in a timid voice.

"Are you sure? No one's being mean to you are you?" I questioned, as we began the walk across the streets to the bus stop.

"No," Flora shook her head, "What makes you think that?"

"People can be mean to new students," I shrugged.

"No, there are some really nice girls in my class," Flora contradicted.

"Oh, that's good," I smiled, fiddling around my purse for my bus pass.

-X-

Later at home, I was realising that I'd have to tell Dad sooner or later. After all, I did want to go with Joe to see Skillet and not just because I wanted to see the band; I actually did like Joe. Dad was up in his office, Flora was in her bedroom doing homework and I was trying to work on my coursework- but failing with the fault of too much anxiety on my mind. The thing was, I wasn't exactly sure how Dad was going to react to the fact that I would be going out on a date. Since the matter had never risen before now, I had no idea how he would react.

Knowing that I couldn't leave it any longer (it was six o'clock now, and knowing Dad's fondness to work all day and get up stupidly early in the morning) and had to get it over and done with tonight, I got up from my desk and trailed across the hallway to Dad's office and gave a soft, but sharp knock.

"Come in," Dad's voice called from inside the office.

I opened the door softly and walked into the office, avoiding the clutter of papers, books and rocks that Dad called 'artefacts' that were spread across the room. I shook my head at the mess, as Dad swivelled around in his chair to face me. He greeted me with the same warm smile he always did.

"Lilly," he grinned, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, " I smiled back.

"Yes; not 'yeah'," Dad corrected.

"Oh, sorry," I shook my head, nervously. Ever since it had began to near my sixteenth birthday, he'd began to pick up on the way I spoke, walked and generally behaved, because according to him, I had to make sure I was 'a proper Lady'.

"Good. Sorry that I haven't seen you properly today, I was just about to..."

"Oh, no, don't worry about that," I cut him off, "I'm nearly sixteen, I can look after myself."

"I'm sure you can," he chuckled slightly.

"Yes, well... I can look after myself, which was I was wondering, if I'd be allowed out on Friday," I said, slowly, as if I was treading on dangerous ground.

"Friday? Where to?"

"Well, a friend got tickets to see Skillet. You know that band I like?"

"The ones who do that loud, heavy music?"

"One of them," I said, deciding it would be a lot easier to not explain all of the different artists and groups I liked.

"Who with?"

" A... Friend."

"Which friend?"

"A... Umm... Joe."

"Joe? As in a boy?"

"Yeah... Yes. I meant yes."

Dad slightly chuckled, but then looked straight at me, "Do you mean to say a boy who's a friend... Or a..?"

"Boyfriend?" I guessed, getting a reply of a smily nod, "Sort of."

Again, Dad gave a small chuckle, "You didn't tell me you were in a relationship, dear."

"Well, I wasn't. Literally speaking, I still don't. I think the whole subject of a date is to see whether you like each other or not," I grinned, cheekily.

"I suppose so," Dad laughed.

"So, can I go?"

"Very well then, but remember don't do anything you don't want..."

"Emmy gave me the talk when I was thirteen," I reminded, interrupting him, "I really don't need to hear it again, now."

"Well," Dad sighed, "You certainly are growing up."

* * *

**The conversation in French translates to this:**

**Miss Key: **_Arthur, what did you eat for_ breakfast?  
**Arthur:** _I had_ toast.  
**Miss Key:** How was your lunch, Lilly?  
**Lilly: **It was very good.  
**Miss Key: **What are you doing on Friday, Joe?  
**Joe:** I'm going to see Skillet.  
**Miss Key: **Who are you going with?  
**Lilly: **I am going with him, Miss.

**Miss Key: **Lilly and Joe, I hope you're talking about work.  
**Lilly:** Yes, Miss... No I'm sure I'll be allowed.  
**Joe: **Good

* * *

**AN: I hope you enjoyed it! **

**Lilly now has her own space on my website. If you're stuck for requests/prompts check it out. www. nikkismithwriting. com category/ uncategorized/ lilly-layton/ to get to it, you have to take out the spaces. If you can't get to it, PM me and I'll try again. :D**

**Also, I'm having my first operation soon! Gah! So scared! At least I get 3 days of school AND 6 weeks of PE! :D**

**Thank you to all of those who have been reviewing! Especially **_MikuLover, Mocking J, Amy Angel Allen _**and**_ Rosebubbles1234._

**And to all of lovely people who've been reading, but haven't said hello, fancy leaving a comment? **

**Anastasia xx**


	25. Heart to Hearts

**AN: So, I recently found out Layton has a son in the spin-off of Professor Layton. I'm sorry, but I literally HAVE to put him in some of these! Annoyingly, I don't exactly know much about him apart from his name, appearance and job. This one, however, is set when he's in University.**

* * *

Lillyesque

Heart to Hearts

_Age: 15 years old_

_Date: January, 1965_

_Games?: Just before Curious Village_

* * *

"You're late," Alfendi said, flatly, as I made my way into his bungalow.

I rolled my eyes at his tendency to point out the obvious. I knew I was late, which was why I had tried to slip into his current home as quietly as possible. Annoyingly, he'd noticed me; either hearing me tiptoe across the hallway, or open the creaky door and enter. Either way, he'd noticed me and, like he had already pointed out needlessly, I was late, which meant only one thing: I would be in trouble.

"Yeah, sorry, about that," I winced, trying to sound hyped up on something, so that he wouldn't be able to gather the seriousness up to scold me.

I was rarely told off, so when I was it seemed to make it all that worse. My Father wasn't really one for getting angry, but occasionally I would do something and he would tell me not to do it again. He would say it kindly, but I could always tell he was fighting back the urge to be a bit stricter. To be honest, I didn't really get why he never shouted. Well, 'never' wasn't really the right word, since we would _sometimes_ go a bit shouty. The thing was, that when he did get shouty, I would always end up upset or stressy, since I wasn't used to him yelling. This was where the problem came in. Because I didn't like it when he got mad, he rarely did it. But, if he did it often enough (not that I was often bad) wouldn't get upset about it. The only way I could see out of this, was for me to make sure there wouldn't be a reason for him to yell. Though believe me, as a teenager, that was an unbelievably hard thing to do. Practically impossible.

"Doesn't bother me," Alfendi snorted, while looking down through his microscope, which sheltered a small slot of plastic.

He hadn't looked up at me yet, implying that he'd heard me enter and actually hadn't looked at me yet. If he could tell who someone was by their footsteps (it could've been his room-mate, Lucy, who'd gone into the flat- not me) then he would be a very valuable Scotland Yard agent (what he wanted to do) after he finished his degree in Forensics- or whatever it was that he was doing.

"Then why did you point it out?" I asked, walking over to him and putting at the amount of mess on his desk.

It wasn't just the working counter that was incredibly unorganised, but the entire flat. It wasn't the nicest of places, but, then again, he was on a student loan, so money wouldn't be that good and he would have to go with what he could get. Dad gave him a bit of money now and then and tried to give him more, but I don't think Alfendi liked having to accept help from other people. From what I could tell, he was very independent and wanted it to stay that way. Maybe it was something to do with his Mum- whoever she was- being around.

There were a number of leaflets and unread newspapers building themselves into a nest in the doorway (which I'd had to step over when I'd come in) and the plain walls had the odd patch of mould dripping down the corners of the room. Neglected plates lined the built-in kitchen counter and the bins had obviously not been put out in weeks- if not months. If this was what happened if you were a student, then I definitely wouldn't be going to university (not that I was smart enough anyway).

"Because," Alfendi began, raising his head from the microscope, his big red bush of reddish, purple hair rustling like a bush, "I'm trying to have some sort of discipline with you. I don't want your Father to be mad at me."

"Hey, he's your Father too," I pointed out.

"Hmm, he may be," was his only reply, before he turned back around and placed another slot of blood underneath the microscope and peered underneath it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I pushed.

"Nothing, just..." he stopped- not just in his speech, but everything; like a robot shutting down, "You know what, never mind, Lil."

I nearly smiled at the fact that he called me 'Lil', as he was the only member of my family to do that. I preferred 'Lil' a lot to 'Lilly' and even more to my real name 'Lillian-Marie' (that no one ever did refer to me as, apart from Grandpa Henry- Mum's Dad.), though I was referred to 'Lillian' by Dad, when he was cross with me.

What stopped me smiling, was his refuses to tell me what he was feeling. Yes, I was five years his junior, but I was still his sister. Well, technically, half-sister, seeing as his Mother was unknown, it clearly wasn't my Mother, Claire Foley. Alfendi did treat me as a sister and I'd noticed that he paid more attention to me, than Dad- sending me Christmas and birthday cards and not him.

"Tell me," I said casually, trying to show him that he could always listen to me, "What's up?"

"Nothing, Lil. Nothing for you to worry about, anyway," he muttered.

"Aha! So there is something! Honestly, I've had to listen to people's problems all day as part of my role on the school Anti-bullying Campaign- I could really deal with listening to someone's problems, that I care about," I grinned, even though he wasn't looking.

Alfendi sighed and lifted his head from the microscope, than sank back in his seat.

"I just don't believe Layton's my Dad. I mean, Mum always said he was, but, well, come on, does he seem the type to you to sleep with someone when he was your age?"

"Actually, he was seventeen; I'm fifteen," I corrected, "But, no, I can't see him doing that. Then again, that was years ago. The him we know today could have been... No, must have been different from the one we know today. Time has a way of changing people, you know."

"Hmm, yeah," Alfendi smiled sadly at me, and ruffled my hair slightly, "I guess you're right, Lil. Still, though..."

"Still what?" I asked, taking a seat on a crooked chair and dropping my bag beside it.

"He's just never been there. I know it wasn't his fault, since Mum never told him, but still... You know. It isn't the same," he admitted.

"Yeah, well, sometimes I hate my Mum for not being here today. But I know it isn't her fault," I said, quietly.

"Hmm," he said. We were silent for a few moments, but it felt like several minutes. Eventually, however, he spoke again, "Do you still miss her?"

"Of course I do," I whispered (though I wasn't sure why), "I can't remember her all that well, but... I do miss her. Everyday, I think about the few precious memories I have of her, because I know I can't ever forget her. I want her back- and I don't think I'll ever stop wanting her back."

It wasn't until Alfendi raised his eyebrows at me, that I realised tears where falling down from my eyes. Quickly, I wiped them away and blinked several times, to stop any more falling- I didn't even want Alfendi to see me cry. He gave me another sad smile.

"I miss my Mum, too," he nodded, understandingly.

"Yeah, well, it's different for you. You can remember yours more than me, mine," I pointed out, "Who is your Mum anyway?"

"I can't say- you know I can't," he reminded me, turning back to his work.

"Not even a name?" I asked.

"Not even a name," he confirmed.

"Hmm," I shrugged, "Anyway, it's nearing five; Dad should be home soon. I'm gonna head home."

"Okay," Alfendi nodded, "Be safe."

"I will," I smiled, "You can come if you want. Dad really wants to see you more."

"No, thanks, I'll pass. I've gotta lot of work to do," Alfendi replied, "But maybe soon."

"Yeah- that would be good," I grinned, picking up my bag and heading for the door, "See you then. Same time next week, yeah?"

"Yep," he agreed, "Bye, Sis."

"Goodbye," I said, opening the door.

"Lil," Alfendi called, stopping me leave his apartment.

"Yeah?" I said, turning back to face him, at his desk.

"Why were you late?"

"Oh... Bus didn't come and then I got on the wrong one," I lied, quickly.

"All right, then," he nodded, "Make sure it doesn't happen next week- or I will tell dad."

"Okay," I smiled as he called him 'Dad' without adding 'your' at the front, "Bye."

I managed to stop myself laughing, until I was far down the hallway of Alfendi's building. I hadn't taken the wrong bus- I knew the whole of London's bus time-table like the back of my hand. In truth, I'd had a detention. But I wouldn't let Dad know that, neither would Alfendi know. Even I couldn't trust him with that. There was always the chance we'd become more like brother and sister and there was no way that I'd be able to cope with him telling everything I'd ever confided him into Dad.

Then again, there was a lot I could use against him. He'd told me a lot of things in our heart to hearts.

* * *

**AN: I'm currently trying to include more of the other characters so it doesn't get repetitive. So requests for characters like Alfendi or whoever are great! **

**Next chapter, will be from Claire Foley's POV!  
**

**Oh, and I have a new poll up, which asks what story shall I put back up after I deleted most of my stories in the Summer. Summaries included, so even if you don't know them ,still vote please! :D**

**Anastasia xx**


	26. Unknown Finals

**AN: 3000 hits! Thank you all! I love you all! :D**

* * *

Lillyesque 

Unknown Finals

Claire's POV

Age: [Lilly is 6 years old]

Date: 16th October, 1955

Games?: Spoilers for L/UF

* * *

"Lillian, can you get dressed please, poppet?" I called, from the kitchen, towards Lillian's bedroom that lay on the other side of the walls.

I scraped a metal knife against the piece of slightly burnt toast, as I spread the butter across it. Hershel was behind me, hurrying around like a bit of a dunce, trying to find some papers. I smiled to myself, not the tiniest bit worried about my partner's current predicament. Nothing could get me down; everything was finally falling into place. After so many years of things constantly going wrong, or unexpected twists rummaging their ways into our lives, things were finally going to be perfect. Hershel was now a Professor and I would be part of the greatest scientific discoveries ever.

We would finally have enough money to move out of the grubby flat we rented, on the cheapest side of London (not that there was one) and would have enough money to buy our own house. Lillian would grow up in a proper house, with a garden and maybe even have brothers and sisters. Who knew? Of course, we still didn't know exactly what would happen in the future, but they couldn't get worse. They _wouldn't _get worse, only better. I was certain of it.

From the kitchen door, that badly needed replacing, in came Lillian, ready for school. Like I'd asked, she was in her school uniform, that consisted of what most children in Junior school wore. The six-year-old was wearing dark tights, with a grey dress that had a neatly plaited skirt. Her chocolate coloured hair (the same as her Father's) had already been brushed, though a few streaks were still looking a little messy.

"I'm ready!" Lillian exclaimed, proudly.

"Good girl," I smiled, placing the plate of toast down on the kitchen counter, "Sit down and eat your breakfast. Be careful; I may not have time to go downstairs to do the laundry tonight."

I regretted what I'd said as soon I said it, since I couldn't risk Lillian asking why I wouldn't have time. I'd already told Hershel that it was an important, but secret experiment and I couldn't even tell him what it was. Luckily, he'd understood and not questioned me on anything else regarding the experiment, but a child's inquisitiveness would be quite different indeed.

Fortunately, the only response I got from my daughter was a nod of the head and a crunch, as she bit into the toast. Suddenly, Hershel raced into the room (for the third time in the past ten minutes) carrying a briefcase, that he hadn't had before. I assumed that was what he was looking for and laughed at him.

"Don't panic, you've got thirty minutes yet!" I giggled, as Hershel gave me a sheepish grin, "It only takes thirty minutes to walk to the University, too, you know."

"Why's Daddy in such a rush?" Lillian questioned, looking up from her breakfast, which was already nearly finished.

"Oh, it's Daddy's first day as a Professor, I explained, with my eyes wide, "And soon, we'll have a lot more money. We'll move out of this clammy, little flat and into a proper house, with a garden!"

I pinched Lillian's nose, playfully, and she squealed in delight, a few childish giggles immersing from her lips.

"Will we be able to paint my bedroom?" Lillian asked. Since our flat was rented, we were unable to decorate any of the rooms, or fix any of the problems. That had become extremely difficult one Winter, when our heater broke and we were left freezing. Especially when the Landlord was off in Australia, visiting his family (not that he'd have helped us straight away anyway) .

"We certainly will," I answered, "What colour would you like?"

"Purple," Lillian replied, after a few moments of thinking.

"Purple it is then," I agreed, before turning over to Hershel, who was standing by the door, smiling at both of us, "Go on then, off to work you go."

He chuckled softly, then came over and gave both Lillian and me a kiss, then dashed off through the door and out of the flat.

"Bye Daddy!" Lillian called after her Father.

I chuckled again, stroking her soft curls, before getting up out of my seat and walking over to get our coats. It was only early Autumn, but it was still rather chilly outside.

"Come on, love. Let's get you to school, too. I can't be late for work today," I remarked, as Lilly finished her breakfast and jumped down from the table.

She took her purple coat from me and pulled it around her arms. Lillian scrambled around the kitchen, getting our rucksack (also purple) from the kitchen side, where I'd packed her lunch, earlier that morning.

"Why not?" the brunette asked.

"Oh, we're running a very important experiment today," I grinned, reaching for the car keys that hung by the side of the door, on a peg.

As we walked down the hallway and out of the flat, I was certain I heard Lillian sigh. I chuckled quietly to myself, though I slightly wished that she would show an interest in either Hershel's work, or mine. Every time either of us mentioned our work, she would simply roll her eyes, sigh (like now) or maybe not even show any sign of reaction. Though of course I couldn't tell her what I would be doing today, it would have been nice for her to show some curiosity or enthusiasm about it.

The drive to school wasn't long, only about two or three minutes, though the walk was about twenty minutes, but the drive to work was about fifteen minutes if you headed to there after Gressenheller Junior. Luckily for me, both my bosses, Dimitri Allen and Bill Hawks, had arranged it so my hours would start at nine. However, today, I wanted to be in as soon as possible and I'm sure they wanted me in early too.

Once we arrived at the school, the bell was already chiming, so we hurried out of the parked red mini and quickly made our way over to the gates. Inside the school, teachers were beginning to make their way out onto the playground and their classes were lining up in front of them. Before Lillian went down to her class, I bent down beside her.

"Okay, poppet, Auntie Brenda's going to pick you up from school today, because both me and your Father are finishing work late," I reminded her.

"Okay," Lillian nodded.

"Be good for her and Uncle Clark, okay?"

"And Luke."

"And Luke," I agreed, planting a kiss on her forehead, then standing up straight.

"I will," Lillian promised, "Goodbye, Mummy! Lillian called after me, waving, as I began to make my way back to the school gates.

"Goodbye, love!" I called back, before turning around and making my way to work, where I would complete the biggest experiment of my life.

* * *

**AN: This was a request from **_Amy Angel Allen_ **who wanted **_the last time Lilly saw Claire before she died. _**I just assumed she meant this time. **

**This one-shot was also a scene in Chapter 2 of **_Goodbye_** but has been transformed to Claire's POV.**

**Hope you all enjoyed it! Next chapter: one with Lilly and her Grandparents. Any specific ideas for it?**

**Please leave a quick review! Maybe as a late Xmas present?**

**Anastasia x**


	27. The Other Side of The Tracks 1

Lillyesque

The Other Side of The Tracks

Age: 15

Date: August, 1964

Games?: I guess there could be spoilers for MoM, but I haven't even played it. It just features Layton's family, which are introduced in that game.

* * *

I was not happy. Not happy at all.

It was the summer holidays and whilst everyone was off on holidays to hot places, such as Spain and Turkey, I was going to be stuck in perhaps one of the most boring places on Earth. I was being sent to spend the next three weeks in Stansbury, at Gran and Grandpa's house; the complete opposite of fun.

And it was all Dad's fault. Well, technically, it was Dean Delmona's fault, but I felt bad for blaming him, since I'd only met him a few times and I'd never carried out a proper conversation with him. Besides, Dad had once told me that 'you should never judge someone if you don't know them properly'. I don't think meant for it to apply in this context, but to be honest, I didn't care. The only thing I cared about, was that Dad was off in Egypt, having fun with Uncle Clark, Auntie Brenda, Emmy and Luke, digging up ancient artefacts, whilst I would be learning how to knit and cook spaghetti bolegnese.

Even Luke was allowed to go- and he was eleven! At first, I'd accused Dad of being sexist since he had said it was too dangerous for me to go along with him. Surprisingly, Dad had seemed unreasonably calm at this accusation. In fact, it was only when I asked if it was because he wanted 'a special holiday with Emmy' that he got a tad mad, but at the query of him being sexist, he just chuckled (I think me being angry entertains him in some way) and said no, because Auntie Brenda was going. As an archaeologist also, Uncle Clark was invited to come along too, and he decided to bring Luke along, as Dad's apprentice- and Dad swore that he had nothing to do with the decision of Luke coming along. Then. Auntie Brenda had decided to go to, because she said that she could do with a holiday and I didn't want to be left alone.

I then said that I felt exactly how Auntie Brenda was feeling, but she to agreed that I shouldn't tag along. Truthfully, I wasn't sure why Auntie Brenda wanted to go. If she didn't want to be alone, then she would have to stay with them all, whilst they were digging. And she hated dirt. Her idea of a holiday was the same as mine; lounging by the beach, sipping lemonade. If I was allowed to go, then that would be what we'd be able to do.

But, no, just when I thought I'd persuaded Dad to bring me with them, he went and rang Gran and Gramps and asked if I would be allowed to go and stay with them for the three weeks, whilst they were in Egypt. And, of course, they had said yes.

And now, here I was. Sitting on a train, that was making its way- far too slowly- towards Stansbury. The train drive from Euston to Stansbury, which was situated in the North of England, was excruciatingly long and the entire journey took about six and a half hours. So far, I'd been on the train for six hours, so I didn't have long left, though after spending six hours on a train with nothing to do, half an hour seems like half a year. When I'd first gotten on the train (at stupid o'clock in the morning), I'd gone straight back to sleep, hence the early hour and as something to do, but had been woken up forty minutes later by the conductor asking for my ticket and after he'd left I couldn't get back to sleep. Dad had made me take a couple of books and I'd actually tried to read one, _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens, but I didn't actually understand what was happening in it, so I gave up and tried the other _Wuthering Heights_ but I didn't understand that either, so I put them both away and left my compartment in search for the dining trailer.

Obviously, it didn't take me long to find it, because on a train you can only go two ways, so I just had to keep walking straight forward. However, once I'd found it, they wouldn't let me buy anything substantial because I was under sixteen and some of the meals had traces of alcohol in the sauces. I bought an orange juice and a chocolate bar, then made my way back down to my seat and looked through my bag, to see if there was anything else I could use to entertain myself.

I found my sketchpad, but the only other piece of stationery that I could find was a green highlighter, and it's kind of hard to draw something with just a green highlighter. I considered just scribbling carelessly like a toddler, until I remembered how much the sketchpad had cost and how unwilling Dad was to buy it for me- it had taken about three months to convince him, and even then he only got it for my birthday.

And, so, I was completely bored for the entire journey.

When the rattling beneath my feet finally subsided and the driver announced through a speaker that we had arrived at our destination; Stansbury.

"Finally," I muttered, as I grabbed the big, purple suitcase from the overhead cabinet and pulled my hand-luggage over my shoulder.

I didn't waste anytime in getting off the train and stepping onto the platform of Stansbury Central. Just as I was about to take a breath of fresh air (the windows on the train didn't open), I became shrouded by a cloud of people. Forcing my way through the crowds, I finally made my way out of the station and stepped into the fresh air.

Though it was a small town, Stansbury was very industrial and although it was a relief to feel a soft breeze against my cheek after being stuck in a stuffy train for the entire morning, it was a tiny bit suffocating as I smelt the smoke from the factories, it was a bit like walking past someone who was smoking a cigarette, when they breath out the ash onto your face. My gaze fell out onto the trees and fields that I could see in the distance, Gran and Gramps lived out on a small cottage there. Back in London, you could never see the countryside no matter where you stood. The only bit of nature was Hyde Park and the Thames and though I loved the city and all its events, it was a relief to see a bit more greenery... Though I still would have preferred to be in Egypt with Dad.

Just then, I saw Gran and Grandpa's car drive up and park outside the station. They spotted me quickly and after a quick smile from Gran, Grandpa got out of the car and walked over to greet me. When I was younger, I'd always been convinced that my Grandfather was Father Christmas, mainly because he looked a lot like him- though he had also told me several times that he _was_ Father Christmas. He was about sixty, I think, with a big bush of white hair on top of his head and for a beard. Like Santa, he was also quite round and he wore a blue top, with brown trousers that were held up by suspenders.

He reminded me of my Father in many ways, though I suppose that made perfect sense. He did enjoy archaeology and though he was quite wise and intuitive, he was quite laid-back and content, too. He was certainly clumsy though, apparently he dropped me when I was a baby!

"There you are, princess!" he beamed, embracing me with a hug, "How've you been?"

"Good," I answered, "I'm annoyed with Dad though."

"What's that son of mine been up to now, eh?" he asked, chuckling slightly.

"He made me come here, instead of going to Egypt with him," I sulked.

"And my I ask what is wrong with coming here?" he teased.

"It's not that," I shook my head, "I just feel left out."

"Hey, now, my girl," Grandpa said, "If your Father thinks it's best for you, then it is. You can ring him on the telephone when we get home, if you want."

"Hmm, it's not the same as being with him though," I sighed.

"Are you two just going to stand there, or are we going to get home? I've got a casserole to make for lunch, you know," Gran called, from the passenger seat, in the car.

"Hello, Gran," I called back to her, grinning.

"Hello, sweetie-pie," she greeted, "I would come out and greet you, but my hips giving me problems again."

I rolled my eyes. Both at the pet name 'sweetie-pie' that she'd been calling me all my life and for using the excuse she made everytime I saw her. Dad had said he believed her, but I was pretty sure he didn't. She could walk perfectly fine and spent her days tending to the garden and cooking, it was only when she didn't feel like doing something that her hip would start playing up, funnily enough.

Even though she was still in the car, I could say Gran was just the same as ever. Her hair was less white than Grandpa's and more greyish or silvery and she was wearing a white blouse and pink jumper.

Even though I didn't see Gran much, I was still close to her. A lot closer to her than my other Grandmother anyway. Though I hadn't seen Nana Marie since it was Mum's funeral. Mum had named me after Nana Marie as a symbol of peace between them, since she hadn't been impressed with Mum when she got pregnant with me. Dad had said it had worked for a while, but soon she completely cut us out of her life. I had always seen my Grandad on Mum's side though and been close with him, but he'd died a few years ago now. Nana Marie was still alive, I think, but I never even heard from her. Sometimes, it was like I'd never even had a Mum because of the lack of contact I had with the Foley Family.

Grandpa took my suitcase from me and put it in the trunk of the blue car, then we both got in.

"How are you then, Lillian?" Gran questioned, as Grandpa started up the car and began to drive through the streets.

"I'm fine," I replied, "How are you, Gran?"

"I'm alright, sweetie-pie, though this hip is driving me up the wall!" she chuckled.

"Gramps said I can ring Dad when we get to yours, is that alright?" I asked.

"Of course it is, my darling," she smiled, "Was your journey here, alright?"

"Long," I replied, simply, "And boring. They wouldn't let me buy anything proper to eat either. I've only eaten a chocolate bar since six o'clock."

"Well, once we get home, I'll make you a sandwich. We'll be having lunch in about an hour, too."

It wasn't long after that, that we arrived at their house. It was only a small cottage, with two bedrooms. The biggest was obviously theirs and the other one had been Dad's when he was younger, though it was only a spare room now. After I'd heaved my suitcase up and into the spare room, I skipped back downstairs to the phone and dialled the house number, for where Dad and me lived. It took a while, but eventually, Dad answered.

"Hello, Layton household," Dad's voice echoed down the received.

"Daddy?" I said down the phone, "It's me; Lilly."

"Oh, hello, my dear," Dad replied, "'Daddy?'"

"I miss you; I get clingy when I miss people," I explained, "How is everyone?" I asked, remembering how Dad had told me that everyone would be staying over, before they left tomorrow for Egypt.

"They're fine. What about yourself? And how are my parents?"

"They're alright."

"You didn't answer my first question; how are you?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound 'fine'. Is something the matter?"

"No, I'm just tired from the journey."

"Ah, speaking of your journey, did you get on and off the train, okay?"

"Yeah, it was boring though."

"Did you try reading the books I gave you?"

"Yes."

"Did you like them?"

"No."

I heard Dad chuckle and I felt a pang of grief, as I realised I wouldn't be hearing him laugh again for three weeks. One of my friends Dad's had died recently and I had no idea how she must have been feeling. I knew I would just be miserable and depressed for the entire three weeks, so how was she able to cope?

"Anyway, I hate to say this, but I need to go now; there are a lot of things to do," he laughed.

"Okay, call when you get to Egypt please," I muttered, tears brimming in my eyes.

"Oh, Lilly..." Dad began.

"What?" I asked, hastily.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to speak once I'm in Egypt, dear."

"Why not?" I demanded, tears now falling down my cheeks, full of anger.

"It costs way too much. The hotel won't be allowing international calls and it would be unfair on your grandparents, anyway."

"But..."

"Lilly, please, I want to speak to you everyday..."

"Well you should have thought about that before you sent me away!" I shouted down the phone, the anger becoming unbearable, "Don't worry, I get it; you just want to get me out of the way, because I'm just a tag along! You can't fool me, you know, you say all this stuff about it being to dangerous for someone as young as me, yet Luke's younger than me and he's allowed!"

"Now, Lilly, you know what you're saying isn't true. Please, calm down, dear..."

"No; I will not calm down! How do you think this makes me feel? Do you ever stop to think how the way you sometimes push me out of the way sometimes, makes me feel?!"

"Right, Lillian-Marie, put down that phone or calm down," Gran, who must have been standing behind me, after hearing me shout, ordered.

I hesitated, but as I bit my lip to keep back another outburst of fury, I slammed the phone back down and turned around to face Gran. Angrily, I pushed past her and made my way out of the door, slamming it behind me.

Since Gran and Grandpa's house was on the outskirts of Stansbury, most of their cottage was surrounded by the greenery of the woods. Decided that this would be relaxing and should help me calm down, I trudged (stomped, rather) into the embrace of the trees and into the woods. It was slightly warmer in the woods, than it was outside them, which I found strange; shouldn't it be cooler? I'd always thought the trees would keep all the heat out. Then again, the soft breeze was quite refreshing.

I was right, the woods did calm me down. The sweet smell of flowers and long grass made its way through the air and up my nostrils and the wind felt pleasant against my cheek. Maybe all those hippies were right, maybe the woods were relaxing. I remember reading a book about it for school (I'd never read a book because I wanted to) speaking about how it 'cleaned the soul'- of course, it was all a load of rubbish.

I carried on making my way through the woods and I began to realise that they were a lot bigger than I'd first thought. I'd only been in the woods ten minute or so and I couldn't remember which direction I'd originally come from. In fact, when I came to think about it, I couldn't even remember the way back.

In an attempt to calm myself down, I'd went into the trees instead of following the path, so instead of having only one way to go, I had about a hundred. And I had no idea which of the a hundred to go down.

Now, I wasn't exactly scared, but I wasn't exactly content with my abrupt decision to run off into the unknown. To be honest, I was very annoyed with myself. I mean, normally I would actually think about something before doing it. But I hadn't actually thought about anything other than how alone I'd felt. And now I only felt more alone.

Sighing angrily, I flopped myself back against a tree. Above me, the branches and leaves rustled, before suddenly, a strange figure leaped down from the tree and came face to face with me.

* * *

**AN: Sorry it's been so long! **

**I've done a crossover with **_PL and Ashes to Ashes _**with Lilly in. It's only short and as long as you know at least one of the categories, it will make sense. So, check it out? **

**Anastasia xx**


	28. The Other Side of The Tracks 2

Lillyesque

The Other Side of The Tracks

* * *

"What do you think you're doing?!" the figure exclaimed, "Knocking me out of my tree! Who the hell do ya' think ya' are?!"

"I... I'm sorry," I stuttered, not quite sure if I believed what I saw, "I... I didn't know you were there."

"Hmm. I should think so, too," they muttered, before looking down and scraping their shoe against the ground.

I wasn't quite sure what to reply with. In fact, I wasn't even sure if this was real. I began to wonder whether this was a dream and I'd somehow managed to fall asleep on the train. Or maybe I still hadn't left for Gran and Grandpa's left and I was still at home, in bed. Maybe I was dreaming up reasons _not_ to go to Gran and Grandpa's? No, this couldn't be a dream. No one, especially me, could dream up something as detailed as this.

I stared at the shadowy figure, as it grudgingly trudged around in small circles. I wondered whether they were waiting for me to say something. It took me a while to figure it out, but eventually I realised that the figure was female. I knew that it was the complete opposite of ladylike to even think that, but it was true; the figure's gender was nearly neither. Her hair was a bright red bush, sticking out like a neon light. It clearly hadn't been brushed or washed for ages. The girl was short, but very thin- it looked as if she hadn't eaten for ages. If I peered in deep between her frizzy hair, I could see that her eyes were a bright, piercing green, like a cat's.

"Who... who are you?" I managed to ask.

"What's it t'ya?" she snorted, kicking the ground again with her feet. Her clothes were old and worn, also possibly meant for men.

"I just wondered," I shook my head, nervously, "I mean, I..."

"What? Have I blinded ya' precious eyesight?" she teased.

"Please, I only want to help," I replied, taking a step forward, "What's your name?"

"You only want to help? Pah! Spare me the pity sunshine, you're just like al' the rest of 'em!" she scoffed.

"Fine," I shrugged, as I began to walk off in an attempt to find my way back to Gran and Grandpa's, "Suit yourself."

I hadn't gotten very far- a few metres maybe- before I heard the girl calling after me. I turned around to see her running towards me. I frowned, she'd just wanted rid of me. Why was she now coming after me?

"What is it?" I asked.

"You... Ya' dunno round these parts d'ya?" she panted.

"What makes you say that?" I questioned, carefully. I began to panic. Was this some trap lead by a bunch of dodgy criminals? Junkies? Rapists?

"That way's the way to the Mill- ya' don't wanna go there d'ya?" she laughed slightly.

"No," I shook my head, "No. I'm not going there."

"Where are ya' headed then?"

"Back to my grandparents."

"Where's that?"

"I'm... I'm not sure," I admitted, shyly, "It's a small white cottage- the closest one ot the woods."

"Ah, I know which one ya' mean," she nodded, "Come on. I'll show you."

Grabbing my wrist, she pulled me around (possibly tougher than she meant) to face the opposite direction and lead me through the trees. Her grip on me was firm and there wasn't any sign that she'd let go soon.

It was the Summer holidays, so I'd first suspected that she'd been camping out in the woods over the holidays. Maybe she'd ranaway or something. That would explain the terrible state in which she looked.

"How do you know the way? I mean, there's no paths," I said, after about twenty seconds of silence.

"I've lived in these woods long enough. I was born here, ya' know!" she grinned.

"What? Surely you can't have been born here?" I asked, confused.

"Yep. What about you?"

"In a hospital," I answered, just as puzzled.

"But where?"

"London."

"Posh, are ya? Born to a loaded family?" she asked, sarcastically.

"No. My parents hadn't finished university when they had me. Well, my Mum just had. My Dad stayed onto do a Masters degree and then a professorship," I explained.

"So, you're rich now, yeah? I mean, you look posh," she gestured to my clothes. I glanced down at the purple dress I was wearing- the one I always wore. It had long sleeves and came down to my ankles, where you could see the toes of my black boots. I had never really considered myself to be posh before, but standing in front of this person and in the forest, I suddenly felt very out of place.

"Yeah, I mean, we're all right, I guess," I shrugged, "Dad's managed to afford a holiday for Egypt for himself."

"And he's dumped you at your grandparents?" she guessed.

"Yeah," I nodded, "What's your name, anyway?"

"Flicker. Leeg Flicker," she introduced, proudly, shaking my hand, "And you are?"

"Lilly- but you can call me Lil. I prefer that, my family don't though," I frowned.

"You don't like your family? Huh, mine ain't been much use either."

"It's not that I don't like them," I shook my head, "I just wish they weren't so... Controlling."

"Heh, don't kid yourself. Youre luckier than ya' know."

"What do you mean by that?"

"My parents. Worse ones ever. Never there; either in jail or on the run."

"On the run?"

"Yep," she nodded, pursing her lips, "They're theives."

"What, so are you... Are you homeless?"

"More or less," she shrugged, "I mean, we have a house. Only, it's more a shed."

"So where are your parents now?" I asked. I didn't really want to ask. In fact, I didn't really want to say anything at all. But it was nearly impossible not to. Like when Dad always said 'they'd piqued his curiosity' that's what Leeg had done to me; I had to know more. Even if the answers would make me want to runaway and never enter these woods again.

"Dad's in jail- has been since I was five. My Mum's on the run. I see her every now and then. Sometimes, she'll come back home," she answered, glumly, "So, what about you? If your Dad's in Egypt, where's your Mum?"

"She um... Died when I was younger," I told her, quietly.

"Oh," Leeg said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Must be rough."

"Not anymore," I replied, "Well, not because of her. More because my Dad's run off without me."

"Do you think he won't come back?" she asked.

"No, it's not like that," I defended, "Just, it's three weeks. And he doesn't seem to care that I won't even be able to phone him."

"Well, three weeks isn't that bad," Leeg said, "I mean, it's been three months since I've seen my Mum. Even longer since I've seen my Dad."

"Well..." I wasn't exactly sure what to say. I knew that life must be terribly difficult for Leeg, but I still didn't trust her or yself. There was no way that this was real. And it wasn't that I doubted Leeg, it was myself that I doubted. So maybe this wasn't a dream. But what if i was hallucinating, or something? I mean, a girl who lives in a shed, whose parents are theives? Could it really be true?

"Anyway, the cottage," Leeg said, pointing to the right, "Just down there. You'll see it after a few more metres."

"Thanks," I smiled, unsure.

"You're welcome," she grinned in return, "And hey, don't be too hard on your Dad. It could be worse."

"Yeah, I guess so."

After a quick nod of gratitude, I made my way through the trees in the direction that Leeg had pointed. Pushing the branches out of my way, I found that there was Gran and Grandpa's cottage, right there. Curious, I raised my eyebrow and glanced behind me. Even though the branches of the tress were no longer covering up the route I'd taken, there was no sign of Leeg. Frowning, I made my way towards Gran and Grandpa's as I spotted Gran in the kicten window, putting a casserole in the oven.

My smile turned into a frown as I realised that Leeg (if she had been real) was right. It could be worse. Things were definitely worse for her, than they were for me. Maybe Dad had only left me for my own safety, maybe he really would miss me. Maybe? What was I thinking? Of course he would be. Just as I would him. But I knew he was coming back. And that was all that mattered.

* * *

**AN: I hope you enjoyed these last couple of chapters. :)**

**Just wondering, do you guys enjoy these multi-chapter ones or just the one-shots? **

**Feedback is appreciated!  
**

**Nx**


	29. Worry, Fear and Grief

**AN: From Izzy's POV :) Just a short, drabbly, emotional one! Nx**

* * *

Lillyesque

Worry, Fear and Grief

Age_: (Lilly's 38) 12 years old- Izzy_

_Date: September, 1987 _

_Games?: No spoilers ;)_

* * *

I sat on the sofa of Grandad's house, staring at my feet and ignoring the echoing buzz, that his old television was making. It wasn't that I didn't like it at Grandad's; I'd rather be there than anywhere else- except home, of course. Though he was quite old, Grandad was lots of fun usually. Not to mention a lot kinder than Grandpa and Nana, who were Dad's parents. I especially liked it at Grandad's because he was like me, and loved puzzles. When I went around his, we would spend ages working our way through old puzzle books and when we weren't doing puzzles, he would tell me stories about the adventures he used to have when he was younger- he told them better than Mum, Auntie Flora and Luke, put together.

My mouth went dry as I thought about Mum and every muscle in my bone seemed to freeze into the bone, preventing me from moving. Just picturing her made everything seem fuzzy- like Grandad's television- as so many images and thoughts spiralled around in my mind. Pale face, skinny structure, eyes like pandas, no hair, glazed eyes... Everyone had told me that everything would be fine and it was just a rough patch, but I knew it was more than that. There was a very good chance that nothing would ever be the same again.

Grandad seemed to notice the tears forming and falling before I did.

"Isabella, oh, my dear," Grandad said, in a soothing, yet concerned voice, reaching out to my hand, "You're worrying again aren't you?"

"How can I not be?!" I replied, knowing that I didn't have the energy in me to protest, "I know you're worried too, you just don't show it!"

"Of course I do worry about your Mother," Grandad chuckled slightly, "I worry about her everyday. And I have done for the past thirty eight years."

"But that's a different worry," I pointed out, wiping some of the tears away.

"Yes, it certainly is, but the point is Isabella, I always worry about her and I always will. However, just because I worry about her, doesn't mean I don't have faith in her," Grandad replied, "She's a strong woman, your Mother, just because she's hit a bit of a rough patch, doesn't mean she I don't think she'll come through."

"Hmm," was all I managed to say in return.

My mind had began to runaway from what Grandad was saying and back to my thoughts. I knew what Clive had said was true and that Mum would be all right in the end, but I still couldn't completely trust him. Even though everyone (Auntie Flora, Uncle Luke, Dad, Auntie Penelope, my friends, my teachers; everyone) had said she'll be all right I still wasn't convinced. I knew there was a big chance Mum would die and I would never see her again.

Then again, even if she would survive, that still would mean that she would be ill. She'd told us with tears in her own eyes that the treatment she'd have to be given would make her ill. The Doctor had told her that at some of the stages of the treatment she'd be too tired to get out of bed. And that would be bad enough.

Violet was only eight and didn't understand what was going on. She was always loud, fussy, jumpy and energetic (just like any other eight year old) but if Mum would be too tired to even get out of bed, wouldn't being around us just make it worse.

Thinking about things getting worse, made me feel incredibly guilty. Auntie Flora, who was a psychiatrist, had told me about the 'Five stages of grief'. Denial; anger; bargaining; depression and acceptance. Even if Mum wasn't going to die, Auntie Flora explained how I was still going to go through these stages, due to Mum's illness. Right now, I wasn't sure what stage I was in. Apart from acceptance, I seemed to be in all of them.

Denial. I still didn't believe it. Up until now, she'd seemed fine. How could she have something as bad as... I couldn't say- let alone think- the word. How could she be _that _ill. How could she have a life-threatening disease when she hadn't even had a cold in years! This was Mum we were talking about, she was the strongest person I knew. She wouldn't let something like this happen to her. How had it happened?!

But at the same time, I knew it was real. And it made me furious. Anger; the second stage. Well, it said for for herself. Mum didn't deserve this! She was the kindest, most caring person I knew! Since she'd told me how she nearly died when she was giving birth to me (and how having James and Violet was just as hard) and she'd said "When I say I would die for you, I really mean it" I've barely been able to separate myself from her. She didn't deserve it! And we didn't deserve for our Mum to die when we're so young.

Bargaining. I did nothing but feel guilt. All those times I'd been horrible to her, complained about the tiniest thing. Why did I do that? Why couldn't I have treated her better? Maybe if she were to die, maybe all she'd think that we'd wanted this? Would she be lying on her deathbed thinking we'd all be better off without her? Would her untrue thoughts end up killing her?

Then depression. And, well, I didn't really need to say anything more on that, really, did I?

Finally, there was acceptance. But I hadn't accepted anything. And I felt like I never would.

Then, there was something else I was feeling. One emotion that didn't come into the category of grief, because, well... It wasn't grief.

"Grandad," I said, looking up at him.

"Yes, Isabella."

"I'm scared," I admitted.

Sighing, Grandad pulled me closer to him and I nuzzled into his brown jacket and orange top, that he'd been wearing ever since I could remember.

"Me, too."

* * *

**AN: Okay, this is like a introduction to an upcoming multi-chapter part. **

**Okay, so guys... Requests. I am giving you the opportunity to control someone's life (Lilly is not fictional to me XD). Anything you think should happen, anything that happened to you that you would have liked to go differently/found really funny/sad/happy/exciting. Literally guys, babies, weddings, mysteries, adventure... I DO NOT CARE!**

**If you really can't think of something, then just put 'I would like more of...' then finish the sentence with what you'd like more of. A certain age, a certain genre, more of a certain character? **

**And I welcome Ocs!**

**Nx**


	30. Duck-tape

_**Requested by~**_

_**Abitat Eco:**_** What if Lily was getting bullied and the Professor had to sort them out for her?**

**And~**

**_Glaceon Girl:_**** Lily is being annoyed by a random kid, and she duck tapes his mouth shut- after she ducked taped him to the wall! And she gets in trouble.**

* * *

Lillyesque 

Duck Tape

_Age: 13_

_Date: 20th May 1963_

_Games?: Set after Spectre's Call/Last Specter, and before Eternal Diva and Mask of Miracles_

* * *

Dad's constant lectures about being a Lady were really beginning to get on my nerves. All the lectures seemed to be the same; behave at all times, always be polite, don't run without means, don't slouch at the dinner table. The list goes on. In fact, I was beginning to wonder whether all the things that a 'Lady' should do, were just things that he made up as he went along to get me to behave and not show him up. Actually, I was pretty sure that was what he did. Either that, or he was plain sexist. Oh, who am I kidding? It's sexism through and through.

Anyway, one of the things that annoyed me most about the 'how to be a Lady' lectures, were that whenever I asked a question about what a Lady could and couldn't do, I got the most ridiculous of answers! Dad always said, that no matter how much a Lady was provoked, that she should never do anything back. Because if anyone were to ever provoke a Lady, they would not be a Gentlemen or a Lady themselves.

In my opinion, that was the most ridiculous piece of logic I'd ever heard. If anyone was provoked, it was human nature to get their own back. And so, since I was tired of many things, I hit back. Lady or not.

It all started with a boy named Robert Parsings, who was in my class at school. At first, it was just the odd roll of the eyes or tut, but soon it had blown into the full name-calling, hair-pulling, teasing, rumour-starting circle of torture. I managed to put up with it for a while, but soon it came too much to bear. I didn't actually understand why he did it to me. Was I an easy target?

Whatever he had against me, I didn't let it get to me. Penelope and Diane told me it was probably because he fancied me or something, but it definitely wasn't that. And I'm not just saying that. Making someone's life hell, the way Parsings made mine is not any sign of a crush whatsoever.

Though, it soon became too much to handle. He seemed to turn the whole class against me and I wasn't quite sure how he did it. What was so good about his leadership skills compared to mine? How was he able to win the entire class (apart from my friends of course) over and get them all against me? I knew it was only twenty-five people, but to me it felt like the world!

The teasing from the whole class died down after a while, but Robert was still giving me reasons to hate myself. Eventually, it got too much for me to handle.

It was an art lesson- something the boys in our class really hated- and we were working on sculptures for a project. The teachers and other students had brought in selections of recyclable materials, such as cereal boxes, kitchen roll tubes, plastic bottles and sweet wrappers, amongst many other things. I'd spent ages working on mine and was actually really proud of it. And that was when Parsings decided to stick his nose in and ruin everything, once again.

The sculpture was of a woman's neck with a necklace around it. I'd carved and cur around the boxes to get them in the right shape and paper mache'd over, so that I could then paint it grey. I'd made the necklace out of aluminium foil, and stuck that down around the neckline. After three double sessions and a single session, I was done. And it looked brilliant.

Well, it _did. _The teacher had just left the room to get more glue when Robert decided to mess it up. He grabbed a silver role of duck-tape and just began plastering it all over the sculpture, without any warning!

"Oh, sorry, have I ruined it?" he smirked, before pulling the duck tape off, which ripped away the paint and three layers away of the newspaper. Even if I could fill in the holes, it would still be completely uneven!

Then, I lost it. Completely and utterly lost it.

I have no idea how I gathered enough strength to do this, or what actually came over me; I'd never done anything like this before. All I know, is that I did it.

After grabbing the duck-tape, I forced Parsings up against the wall- knocking down a display or two in the process- and kept him there with my arm against his neck (probably an action I'd inherited from films). For the first time, it was me- not Parsings- who was in power. And I wasn't scared, but he was. Pulling the duck-tape away from the roll, so it was stretched out, I plastered it all over him. Left to right, right to left, diagonal; he was absolutely covered in duck-tape from every direction. The silver tape stuck to his skin tight and glistened in the light of the room.

I stood back and smiled at my masterpiece.

"Oi! Let me off!" Parsings cried.

"Shut up!" I yelled.

"Make me!"

"Maybe I will..." I smirked, before grabbing the duck-tape and yanking a strip off. I reached over and stuck it over his mouth.

At the time, I think I knew perfectly well that there was no way I would get away with duck-taping Robert Parsings to a wall. I just hadn't particularly thought about it, or even cared. However, though I did get in an immense amount of trouble for it, it was worth it.

Once the teacher came back into the room, I was dragged off to the headteacher's office, whilst a TA tried to de-attach Parsings from the wall, without hurting him. In the head teacher's office, I tried to sit calmly, but was having a lot of trouble keeping back giggles- I still couldn't believe I'd stuck him to the wall. The Head Teacher, Mr McFall, gave me the same type of lecture Dad would give (though I couldn't exactly picture Dad giving me a lecture about sticking someone to a wall; it's really hard to picture him getting cross- even when he is angry!). After a series of 'No, Sir', 'Yes, Sir', and 'Never again, Sir', I was given a HCL detention, which was less than I'd expected to get. However, I knew Dad still wouldn't be impressed, especially since it would be my seventh HCL this year.

Since Art was the final session of the day, we were all allowed to go home afterwards. After being told a phone call home would be made, I got up and left the Head's office, and made my way out of the school gate. I met Penelope and Diane at the bus stop, who demanded an explanation- they weren't exactly badly behaved and hadn't exactly expected an outburst like that from me, ever. After a quick explanation, describing how I had no idea what had happened or what had come over me (other than Robert becoming a complete and utter idiot!). They didn't exactly seem to be happy with my answer, but they said nothing else and reluctantly changed the subject, to some celebrity gossip (which Dad would make me stay far away from).

Once we'd caught the bus, we gave the bus driver a quick flash of our embarrassing year seven photographs, so we could get on and then went to sit at the back. When I was younger, I'd always loved sitting there since it felt a bit like I was on a bouncy castle, as it bumped up and down on the bumpy road. Now, it just made me feel sick. However, no one wanted to sit at the front. Mainly because the closer you were to your destination, the closer you sat on the bus (that was the rule made by the drivers) to avoid disruption in the journey, and the closest estate to the school was definitely not the nicest of them. Luckily, we lived right at the end of Gressenheller- though Diane lived the furthest away.

Two stops after Penelope had gotten off, we reached Picarat Avenue, which was where Dad and me lived. Hopping off the bus, I began to make my way down the street, where my house was. Though it wasn't long before I realised I was being followed.

"Oi! Lil-sy!" a voice from behind me slurred.

Coming to a stop, I turned around, I saw Robert Parsings. I had to try incredibly hard not to laugh, it was possibly the fear, as I knew that he was stalking me that stopped me from erupting in giggles, but I had to smirk at the very least- there was no way to hide that in. His face was a crimson red from what the duck-tape had obviously been ripped away from his cheeks. His skin was rather pale, so it made hism rather look like a clown.

"What?" I asked.

"Now, I don't know what your problem is," he told me, walking forwards. Again, I nearly burst out laughing at the irony; he knew perfectly well what my problem is, "But I know what it's about to become: me."

"What are you going on about?"

"I can make your life hell, and believe me, I will," he hissed.

Now, I wasn't exactly frightened (or I didn't want to think I was), however, I was slightly nervous. Robert had already caused me a lot of trouble. I certainly didn't need anymore trouble now. To be honest, if I'd known sticking him to the wall with duck-tape would end in more threats, I wouldn't have done it. I guess the only reason I'd done it was because I thought if I could show him I could stick up for myself, he would leave me alone. However, it looked like I'd done the complete opposite.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" I whimpered.

"Because, there's no fun in that," he grunted.

"Excuse me, but may I ask why you are threatening my daughter?" a voice from behind me asked.

Turning around, I had never been so glad in all my life to see Dad looking angry.

"I... erm..." Robert stammered.

"I suggest you leave now and stop threatening my daughter, or believe me, I will take matters very seriously," Dad said.

"Y...Yes, sir..." Robert managed to say, before running off in the opposite direction.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked up at Dad, who now turned his frown to me.

"You can drop the act now, Dad," I winced.

"There is no act, Lillian-Marie, Dad began, "You're in a lot of trouble. I got a telephone call from the school saying that you stuck someone to a wall... Now, what's this all about?"

* * *

**AN: I hope you enjoyed it! Especially those who requested!  
**

**There are three different types of requests you can make. You can...**

**1) Give a detailed quote (eg. the ones at the top AN).**

**2) Say what you'd like more of. (eg. more of a character/genre/age) **

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**Please leave a review! Would be MUCH appreciated!  
**

**Nikki xx**


	31. Sick

Lillyesque

Sick

_Age: 14_

_Date: March 1965_

_Games?: Set between the end of second trilogy and CV. No spoilers._

* * *

I pulled myself into a tight ball, attempting to trap in all the body heat I could. It was no use though; I was still freezing. According to the thermostat on the wall, it was twenty three degrees Celsius. I scrunched myself up into a tighter, smaller ball and tugged my coat over my shoulders and clasped the ends around my chest as tight as I could manage. However, I still felt like a block of ice. My arms and legs were covered in goosebumps and my arms were shaking rapidly.

There was a possibility of course, that if I were to go upstairs and into my room, my bed sheets, would warm me up (and I would've done anything to be in a proper bed). Only I didn't feel like I had the strength in me. All I could do, was lie on the sofa, in the front room, feeling weak and vulnerable and wait for Dad to arrive home from work.

It was half past four now and Dad usually came home at five o'clock, unless he had a meeting- which if he did, he'd of told me in the morning or the previous day. It looked like I'd just have to wait. After all, it couldn't be that bad to wait another thirty minutes, could it? I'd already waited an hour... Then again, I hadn't been feeling _this_ sick then.

At breaktime, at school, I'd begun to feel a bit unwell and as the day went on, the worse I'd felt. At lunch, I'd gone to the school nurse, but she said that it was only two and a half hours till the end of the day, so there was no point in sending me home and it would probably soon pass. It didn't though. If anything, it got worse. And worse, and worse, and worse. By the time I was on the bus on the way home, I was pretty much a zombie. Then, I'd staggered through the door way and since then, hadn't moved.

I had always hated being sick, but I'd never hated it as much as I did then. In fact, when compared to how I was feeling, I'd never been sick before! Every part of me ached as if it were a ten tonne weight pulling me down. Each time I moved- even the slightest bit- my head swirled and I was sure that if I were to stand up, In would collapse. My head swirled and all that I could see were colours and shapes, too squashed together to be describable or have a name. My throat was drying up like a puddle of water next to fire and I could taste vomit at the back of it.

I looked back at the clock, it was now five o'clock. Where was Dad? I didn't want to sound all needy and immature- I am fourteen, after all- but having Dad with me made things better. If anyone was with me at all, I'd feel better. Though I did like my space and privacy, those things were pushed aside when I was ill.

I'd never felt so relieved before, then when I heard the front door. The creek of it opening and slam as it closed hurt my ears, but Dad was back home; that was all that mattered. As the footsteps patted against the floorboards I winced. The sharp, steadiness of the steps were unbearable. They stopped and I knew that Dad was now walking across the carpet in the same room that I was in.

"Lilly?" I heard Dad ask. I looked up immediately, a thousand colours screeching in my face as another wave of dizziness swept over me. I placed my head back against the arm of the settee. A hand was placed on shoulder gently. "Lilly, are you all right, my dear?"

Like I said, it hurt to move, but I managed to shake my head slightly in response. "I feel ill," I croaked. I shut my eyes tightly again; the living room was bright and it just seemed to increase my throbbing head. "I... I'm achy and feel dizzy and..."

"Nauseous?" Dad guessed. I nodded slightly and Dad carried on, "I thought so. It seems you have a case of the flu. You look very pale and shaky."

"Hmm," I groaned in agreement, my eyes still shut tightly.

A cold hand was placed on my forehead for a few seconds, before it moved to my cheek. I opened my eyes, squinting, and saw Dad crouching beside me. His top hat blocked out the light, so it made it easier to see.

"You're burning up," Dad frowned, moving his hand back to my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I'm cold," I told him, trembling, "Everything hurts."

"I know, my dear, I know," Dad soothed, stroking my arm, "Do you want to go to bed?"

"I tried, but I was too dizzy," I explained, shaking my head.

"Very well, I'll bring your bed sheets down for you, okay?" Dad offered.

I nodded and smiled in appreciation. Dad smiled back and left. He came back quickly and covered me in my purple duvet and placed my matching pillow under my head. I wrapped the sheets around myself and snuggled down into the pillow. I felt a clump of my hair stuck together with sweat, fall across my face and I swept it away.

Carefully, Dad sat down beside me on the settee. I felt the cushions move slightly and adjust themselves, but it lasted for a matter of seconds. Again, Dad placed his hand on my shoulder. Craving comfort, I rolled myself over and grabbed my Father's arm. I lay against his arm and nuzzled into his shoulder. Caringly, Dad moved his arm around me and pulled me against him. I grasped hold of his jacket, and lay my head across his chest.

"How long have you been feeling unwell for?" Dad asked.

"Started at school," I murmured.

"Did you tell a teacher or go to the nurse's office?"

"The nurse said it would just pass," I explained, weakly.

I heard- and felt- Dad sigh and he stroked the ends of my hair.

"And why didn't you call the university? You know if you need me, I'll always come," Dad reminded.

"I...I know. I just didn't want to interrupt, or... or anything," I answered, "You could have been b...busy and I didn't want to make... make you come home, if... if you were."

"Lilly, my dear girl, you wouldn't gave interrupted anything, but if I was giving a lecture or a presentation, I would've preferred it if you rang, than stayed here alone in this state. If I wasn't able to come, I'd have sent Emmy, at the very least," Dad told me.

"Okay," I muttered, breathing deeply.

I cuddled up to Dad a bit more and he held me tighter, still stroking my arm. He chuckled, but not in a mean way, in a happy sort of way.

"You're shivering still," Dad observed, "Are you still cold?"

"Freezing," I replied, teeth chattering, "Dad... I... I don't feel well."

Dad shushed me, but not in a way to make me quiet; in a way to tell me that everything was okay. I felt like a small child, but I didn't mind. Having my Father present didn't make me feel any better, but it did make me feel safer and content.

Graciously, Dad placed the back of his hand on my forehead again. I didn't understand why he did it a second time. After all, my temperature wouldn't change in the space of five minutes- unless it had gotten worse. Well, I definitely hadn't started to feel better and doubted I would anytime soon.

"It's alright, Lilly. You've just got a bit of the flu," Dad assured.

"A bit?" I queried. Normally, I would've meant it as a joke, but in this context I was serious. I was feeling so ill, I considered the fact that I could have the plague, not just the flu. I didn't feel like doing anything. Breathing hurt.

"Shall I give you a puzzle to solve?" Dad offered.

"Not, now please," I moaned.

I couldn't solve a puzzle when healthy, so there was no way I'd be able to solve one when I'd possibly contracted the plague! I'd suffered through school, which I found hard enough (thanks to the invention of learning disabilities) and now I'd come home, I wanted to rest. Not hurt my head anymore.

"Come on, Lilly," Dad encouraged, "It may take your mind off of your sickness."

"Fine," I gave in, too tired to protest, "An easy one, though."

"Ah, a student told this to me earlier, maybe you'd like to hear it?" He didn't wait for me to respond. "What's always on time, but never punctual? What's always in memories, but never in thoughts? You need it to mix, but don't need it to stir. And it's always in something, but it isn't contained."

I groaned. I tried to figure it out- I really did- I just couldn't. Even if I wasn't ill, I wouldn't be able to do it. Thinking about something else did ease the pain I was in though.

"I don't know," I sighed, after a minute or so.

"The letter M," Dad said.

"Oh..." I muttered, slightly embarrassed that even though I'd now been given the answer, I still didn't know the answer.

"Never mind, my dear. How about another puzzle?"

"O...K."

It had helped to take my mind of things. Even though I knew I wouldn't get it correct, it was the only thing I could do to distract myself.

"What is never seen, but always there? It gets us through the toughest times, though can sometimes cause them. It can not eb bought or stolen, but it can be given and received."

I thought for a few minutes. Seen as the answer to the previous puzzle had been a letter, I automatically assumed this one would be too. However, no matter which letter I chose, it didn't fit all of the clues. It was probably my terrible spelling though- even I couldn't read my own writing!

"I don't know," I answered, after a while.

"Hmm... Well then, you'll just have to keep thinking."

* * *

**AN: Virtual cookie to whoever gets the puzzle right! :D **

**Oh, and if any of you guys have twitter, you can follow me (at sign inserted here)_stasiadove _for updates on fanfiction and future ideas! :D **

**Anastasia xx**


	32. Three Out of Four 1

**Requested by InvisibleBlade: ****_Lilly gets kidnapped and tortured because her dads hiding a deep dark secret and some evil person wants to get it out of her._**

**_Also, an explanation to my one-shot _**_Gunshots __**.**_

* * *

Lillyesque

Three Out of Four

_Age: 14_

_Date: July 1963  
_

_Games?: Set after Spectre's Call. Slight spoilers for second series  
_

* * *

"What's this?" I asked Dad, as I picked up a small, rectangular box. The case itself was a clear plastic, with a black velvet coating inside. On top of the coating, were three stones, each the same shape, but a different colour; the first was blue, the second was yellow and the third was a red. Then, next to the red was an empty spot, that clearly should have been filled with- what I could only guess- another stone, in a different colour.

"That," Dad began, turning around to have a look at what I was speaking about, "Is- I think- three of the four stones to The Cazzucula Islands."

"You _think_?" I inquired, raising one eyebrow.

"Well, I can't be certain, however, as far as I can tell, they are three quarters of the answers to a very big archaeological find," Dad explained.

Seen as his response gave me more questions than answered, I raised my eyebrows further. "Can you translate that to English, please?"

"Oh, doll, will you stop fiddling with your Father's thingy-ma-bobs and help tidy this office up," Rosa teased, "Honestly, it's a wonder I can get through the door."

I grinned, spotting Dad roll his eyes. Luckily for him, the angle he stood at meant his top hat was blocking the view of his face, from where Rosa was standing. Their employer/employee relationship was very amusing. Dad wasn't like most bosses and Rosa wasn't like most employees, meaning that when they were together, it was impossible to keep a straight face. Rosa was very outgoing and said what was on her mind, no matter what, and Dad took this to heart- especially when she mocked him.

"The Cazzucula Islands, Lilly, are said to hold one of the treasure greatest treasures known to man," Dad explained.

"Well, they can't be if they're only _'said'_ to be," I pointed out, placing the box back on the shelf I'd found it- it didn't exactly seem to be causing any mess, and I didn't want Dad to lose it, since by the sound of it, it was pretty important.

"There are many artefacts to show that The Cazzucula Islands do exist, however they have not yet been found," Dad went on.

"Does anyone know where they are?" I questioned.

"There's an old poem, which is the biggest clue to the whereabouts and discovery of The Islands, that goes 'As the sapphire, topaz, ruby and amethyst reunite under the midday sun, the pathway shall show and guide those who have won'," Dad recited.

"And for once, a poem that actually rhymes!" I laughed. "And so, those stones there, are the sapphire, the topaz and the ruby. But you don't have the amethyst?"

"No, and to be truthful, if it is ever found, I highly doubt it won't be for another hundred years- if not more. These three stones have taken centuries to discover. In fact, the first that was found, the topaz stone, was discovered in the Tudor times. And was used in a Shakespearian play," Dad informed me.

"Ugh, Shakespeare," I muttered, before raising my voice back to its normal volume, "How can you tell they're the actual stones? I mean, there are thousands of rubies, topazes and sapphires out there," I pointed out. "How can you be sure these are the ones?"

"Ah, I'll show you," Dad said, before coming over to where I was standing by his desk and reaching up to the shelf, where I'd just put the stones back. He opened the case and took one out; the ruby. He rolled it over in the palm of his hand and held it out so I could see. Glancing down, my eyes squinting together tight, I saw a mark that looked slightly like a Mandarin Chinese symbol, like a hashtag. "You see this?" Dad questioned, pointing to the mark. "This is believed to be the Cazzucula word for 'the'."

"The?" I questioned.

"Yes. When put together, the stones are said to say 'We are the treasure'," Dad explained.

"Sounds interesting," I smiled, "Tell me more."

"Very well then," Dad agreed, "Rosa would you mind putting the kettle on?"

"Excuse me," Rosa frowned, "But I believe we're supposed to be tidying this pigsty up."

"And we shall," Dad promised, "Just not now."

Rolling her eyes and tutting, Rosa made her way out of Dad's office and into the kitchen next door. We could even hear the chuckling through the walls. Dad gestured for me to sit down on the old, green cushioned sofa and sat beside me. The case with the gemstones were in his hands.

"The Cazzucula Islands were once home to a land of people, called the Cazzuculars. Now, the Cazzuculars were- at the time- very different to any other citizens of other countrues. These people believed that only good things would become of the good and that all the things they did, should be for others and not themselves. They lived in peace, a paradise you might say. That was until, the Romans invaded..."

"Wait a second," I interrupted, "We learnt about the Romans in school. We were told nothing about them invading Cazzucula."

"Like I said, it's very rare. I hadn't heard about it until a student questioned, and I decided to look into it," Dad replied.

"What? Because it was 'Laytonesque'?" I teased.

Dad chuckled. "You, my girl, have been spending too much time with Emmy."

"Course I have. Someone's got to make sure you two don't start courting," I quipped.

Dad rolled his eyes and ignored my comment, before carrying on. "Anyway, since the Cazzucula's didn't want to fight, the Romans conquered the islands, within a matter of days, if not hours. Those who they didn't slaughter, were kept as their slaves. And rumour has it, that the King and Queen of The Cazzucula Islands, Rameif and Madiera Toraina, had four daughters; Saphmea, Toquarz, Ribey and Amanthai. Once the King and Queen were dead, the four daughters were taken to England- where the Romans were planning to invade and conquer next- where they were kept as slaves for the armies. Their Island had gone, all the land destroyed and burnt, pure chaos. It wasn't long before the sea swallowed it up whole. However, before their home was destroyed and they were taken, they each took the four jewels that belonged to them and somehow, hid the secrets to their now damaged home. The four jewels were scattered around England whilst they were there as slaves. And, that is all anyone knows."

"Wow," I said.

"Indeed," Dad agreed, "Oh, and, sorry, I must correct myself; there's one more thing that I have forgotten. The last name of the Royals, Toraina, any guesses as what it may translate to?" I shook my head and Dad soon replied. "Treasure."

"Wait, don't tell me, the princesses names, Saphmea, Toquarz, Ribey and Amanthai, they translate to the names of the jewels."

"That's it exactly," Dad smiled, proudly, "'We are the treasure.' Now, myself and many of the others who are aware of this myth, believe that these jewels are more than just a family heirloom. And that they're a sign. They match in with the poem, they are the lead to not only a large archaeological tale, but a hidden treasure."

"But no one knows where the land is," I thought aloud, "Which is why no one's ever found it."

"Again, you're spot on."

I grinned, happy for once that I'd managed to figure something out independently. Looking up at the clock, I saw the time.

"I've got to go. I told Kathy I'd meet her at the park in ten minutes," I told him.

"Be back for tea," Dad said, as I stood up.

"Home or here?" I questioned, walking over to the door.

"Here; I think Rosa wants to get a bit of cleaning done," Dad winked.

"Ha! More than a _bit_," I mocked, walking out of the door. "See you."

-X-

I was walking down the streets to the park, when I heard Big Ben chime twice, it was two o'clock already. I'd promised I would meet Kathy at two, and I was still fifteen minutes away from the park. I hadn't expected the streets to be so crammed, so I hadn't left as early as I should of, which I now regretted. I thought for a moment, before deciding that it would be best to go own March-hill Avenue, even though I wasn't allowed down there. dad hadn't said why, other than 'it was a dangerous place' but I knew what it was like there. We'd all spoken about it in school when Amelia Derngate's older sister got kidnapped and was found down there. It was full of brothles, smoke and rapists. Even though I knew it was a dangerous place, I had faith in myself. If I kept my head down and walked fast enough, I'd be all right.

And so, I turned back to make my way towards March-Hill Avenue. I hadn't been down there before, all I knew was that if I carried on walking in a street line, I would get to the park in a matter of minutes- probably less than two.

March-Hill Avenue was just as revolting as Amelia had described. The streets were thin and narrow, the buildings packed tight. The walls of the houses covered in muck and with dirty laundry hanging outside the windows. Barely any light came through whatsoever. There was a musty, murky mist covering the air, which only added to the suffocating of the cigarette smoke. Every now and then, I would pass a man as he walked down. Like me, he kept his head down. His face was being covered by a top hat- though none of them were a gentlemen.

I could see the light and hear the squeals of children from the park, when I was suddenly grabbed from behind. Before I could scream, a white cloth was pulled around my mouth and I was hit on the head. Before I even felt the pain, I blacked out.

* * *

**AN: Duh, duh, duh! Anyway, this is how the names should be pronounced- well, how I think they should be pronounced! XD**

Cazzucula: Caz-a-cu-la

Rameif: Ram-eef

Madiera: Mad-i-ear-a

Toraina:- Tore-ain-a

Saphmea: Saf-mee-a

Toquarz: To-quarez

Ribey: Rie-bee

Amanthai: Am-an-faye

**And well done to **_BlackPoppy.O_ **and** _Spies-can-solve-puzzles _**for getting the puzzle right! :D **

**Optional hugs for any of the reviewers! :D  
**

**Oh, and I typed in **_Lillyesque _**to try and get to it to show my cousin because I thought it would be quicker and guess what I found! A beauty channel called** '_Lillyesque'_**! How cool is that?! **


	33. Three Out of Four 2

Lillyesque

Three Out of Four

* * *

When I finally came around, I could see a figure in front of me. At first, I thought it was Dad, but as my pixelated surroundings became clearer and focused into clearer shapes, I soon realised that it was a man who couldn't be more different. Although he was about the same height as Dad, instead of a caring or inquisitive (the facial expression Dad mostly had on) look, this man, at first glance, was emotionless. Then, when you looked at him carefully, you could see the spite, hate and greed in his glazed, grey eyes. His hair was a wild, untamed bush of murky brown knots and he was wearing a purple shirt and black trousers.

"Hmm, you're awake," the man observed. I immediately noticed he had a French accent. I recognised his voice, too, though my mind was too fuzzy and blurry for me to remember what I knew it from.

As a memory that had clearly hid itself for a reason, played itself like a video tape in my thoughts, it sent a shiver of fear through me. I wasn't sure what it was that triggered the memory, but I assumed it was the first thing- other than the man- that I saw once I'd woken up; a gun, with the end covered in dried blood. I knew that there was no reason for the gun to remind me of those last conscious moments I'd had, since there was no strong evidence that suggested it was a gun that had hit me on the head. For all I knew, it could've been a bat or a glass bottle, and if they had a gun, why would they just hit me on my head with it? If they were in possession of a gun, why didn't they just shoot me... Unless, they wanted me alive.

And if they wanted me alive, it wouldn't be for a good reason.

The room was large, but at the same time, claustrophobic. It felt as if the walls were closing in on me. Suffocating. I tried to toss and turn, o convince myself that I had the space to move, but I couldn't. Looking down, I saw four strong ropes wrapped tightly around my arms and legs- one on each. As soon as I'd noticed this, there was no ignoring it. The ropes itched, stretched and stung. They kept me to pulled to a solid plank and even held me down so tight, it was a struggle to breathe.

The walls to the room were murky, dusty and damp and reminded me of a polluted pond or sewer water. At the end of the room, was a tall, metal box with a selection of buttons, dials, levers and slides. Connected to the box through an array of tangled wires, was a chair that looked like one you'd find at the dentist, only with straps on the arms and at the bottom, that I assumed were for strapping someone's arms and legs to.

"Where am I?" I demanded, weakly, trying to pull myself up. However, with the ropes holding me to the plank tightly, there was no way I could get within three millimetres of the plank.

"That's not for you to know," the man replied, grudgingly, before walking over to the other side of the room, as if he didn't want to be near me.

"Who are you?" I questioned, desperate for some answers, though also terrified.

"You don't know who I am? Surely, you... Ah, of course," the man nodded, still with the evil glint in his eye. He walked over to where the gun was sitting on a shelf. Panic struck through me, as I thought he was going to shoot me with it, but he didn't reach for the gun. Instead, he picked up a black hat and white mask that I hadn't noticed, until now. I knew I recognised them from somewhere, but it wasn't until he put them on, that I knew where I recognised the accessories or his voice from.

"Descole..."

-X-

Emmy's POV

I watched, biting my fingers, as the Professor anxiously paced up and down the hallway of the ground floor, of his house. One hand was behind his back and the other up to his face as if he were thinking. Usually, he'd be thinking about a puzzle or something, but I knew that he wasn't thinking about anything inquisitive at that moment. He was too worried and so was why.

"Professor, she'll be fine," I reassured, though I wasn't sure of my own words, "You know what kids are like. They run wild all the time, she'll be back soon."

"Lilly isn't like other children her age though,"the Professor pointed, "Besides, she said she was meeting Kathy at the park. When I rang Kathy's Mum, she said that Lilly hadn't arrived at the park and after half an hour of waiting, Kathy went back home."

"She may not be like other children all the time, Professor," I began, "But that doesn't excuse her from the fact that she's still a teenager. Maybe she'd never even planned to meet Kathy at the park."

"No, Lilly wouldn't lie," the Professor shook his head. "I'm calling the police."

"Professor, are you sure? It's..." I glanced up at the clock in the hallway."Only six o'clock. If you told her to be back for tea, she might have taken that as seven o'clock. And if you told her to get back to the University, then who knows, she could be on her way there now."

The Professor stopped pacing and leant against the stair banister, before putting his head in his hands. I sighed and went over to him, giving him a reassuring pat on his arm.

"I'd think you right, Emmy, if we were speaking about anyone else," he said, "But I've known Lilly her whole life; she would never disappear without telling me. And if she was supposed to meet a friend, but never turned up, something _must _have happened to her."

"I know you're worried. I'm worried too, it's just..." I wasn't sure how to finish the sentence.

"Emmy, if something has happened to her, and she's lying there helplessly in the streets, then us thinking she'll be home soon isn't going to help her. Now, I don't want to think that something has happened to her, but I can't risk it," the Professor explained, "And if she has lied, then I'll make sure she understands that what she did was wrong, but I can't picture her acting like that. Even if you don't agree with me and think I'm acting to rashly, I'm going to call the authorities."

"Very well, Professor," I nodded, my hands dropping by my sides, as the Professor reached for the phone. Ironically, just as he was about to pick the received up to dial 999, the phone began ringing. Quickly, incase it was Lilly, he answered it.

"Hello, Professor Layton speaking... Yes... What do you..? Ah, yes... What, surely, no? Wasn't anyone there? Yes... Yes, I see. Thank you, however I... What? Are you sure? Positive?... Right! I'm on my way!"

Slamming the phone back down, the Professor grabbed his car keys that sat on the side, before sprinting towards the door.

"Professor, what is it?" I asked, quickly.

"Get to the Laytonmobile- I'll explain on the way," he replied, frantically, swinging the door open.

"Professor! What's going on?" I cried after him.

"It's Lilly," the Professor began, "She's in danger!"

-X-

Lilly's POV

"What am I doing here?!" I asked, furiously, now I'd gained nearly all of my strength back. Though I still couldn't get free of the ropes.

"Do you really need an answer to that? Isn't it obvious?" he queried, looking up form a set of blue-prints.

"If you've kidnapped me, I have a right to know why!" I exclaimed, angrily, still tugging at the ropes. I knew that I should have been careful in how I spoke to him, since he basically had me under his control and without anyone there to stop him, he could do whatever he wanted to me. But I felt I couldn't let myself show (if I couldn't stop myself completely) any fear. More now than ever, I'd have to eb strong. Even though I was running around in a bundle of panic and worry.

"If you don't know why, then it's that Father of yours' fault," Descole snarled. "Maybe if he'd told you, you wouldn't be here now."

"What didn't he tell me?"

"Oh, do you ever shut up?" he asked, "Honestly... Look, I don't have time for your questions anyway. Besides, there isn't a point in you being awake. I can't use you yet, not until the midday tomorrow."

Descole got up and walked behind me. Since I couldn't see behind me, due to the ropes' tight hold, I couldn't see what he was doing. However, I heard a drawer slide open and slam shut. A few seconds after, Descole was above me, with a clear bag in his arm, with a tube running from it. Like an IV drip you'd see in a hospital.

"Oh, no... Don't you dare!" I snapped.

Descole didn't say anything, but instead, attached a needle to the end of the tube and then inserted it into my arm. I didn't exactly have a fear of needles, but since I was scared what this one was going to do to me, it hurt a lot more than it probably really did. I could feel the liquid pumping into me and I began to become drowsier and drowsier after each pulse of fluid gulped its way in through my flesh. The last thing I heard, was Descole's cackle, before everything disappeared.

* * *

**AN: Just a quick note to say thanks for those lovely reviewers! If you are reading and haven't said hello yet, fancy just leaving a sentence or two in the review box? I would be very grateful! Even if you don't have an account, I'd be delighted to hear what you think! :)**

**Also, do you guys prefer...**

**One-shots or Multi-chapters?**

**Younger Lilly or Older Lilly?**

**Lilly's POV or Other's POV? **

**Humour or Drama? **

**Please answer, as it goes towards future chapters as to what YOU guys like! :)**


	34. Three Out of Four 3

Lillyesque

Three Out of Four

* * *

Emmy's POV

"Professor, what's going on? What's happened?!" I demanded to know, as I jumped into the Laytonmobile. I may only have been his assistant, but this was important and I'd grown worried.

"It's a long story, but I suppose you need to know," the Professor sighed, as he started the Laytonmobile up.

"Yes, I do!" I cried.

"Very, well. Do you remember the story about The Cazzucula Islands that I told you a few weeks after you were hired?"

I thought back to when I as first hired as the Professor's assistant- skipping forward our first adventure to Misthallery, of course. Quickly, I remembered a box of three jewels on top of the Professor's desk. The Professor had said that they were a key to an Island named Cazzucula, that had been destroyed by the Romans. He'd also said that in total, there were four stones and that the Professor only had three.

"Yes, of course, I do. A lady never forgets, you know!" I teased and regretted it immediately. It clearly wasn't time for jokes and it had been stupid of me to even consider entertainment and humour at a time like this.

"Yes, well... The story I told you, well, there's more to it than that," the Professor went on.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember the old poem I told you? The clue to finding The Cazzucula Islands?" the Professor questioned.

"Err... Wasn't it something about the jewels meeting under the sun?"

"Sort of. 'As the sapphire, topaz, ruby and amethyst reunite under the midday sun, the pathway shall show and guide those who have won'. Well, that was what I told you- what I told Lilly too. But that's not the whole of the poem."

"What's the rest?"

The Professor let out a sigh, as he turned the wheel. I noticed that he was going over the speed limit, but didn't point it out; he was worried, he had his reasons. Besides, how could I criticise his driving when I wasn't exactly the safest driver in London?

"The entire poem goes like this: As the sapphire, topaz, ruby and the blood of the amethyst reunite under the midday sun, the pathway shall show and guide those who have won. And as the blood of the amethyst dries out under the sun, the light of Cazzucula shall burn the skies like it did once upon," the Professor recited.

"The... _blood_, of the amethyst?"

"Unlike the ruby, topaz and the sapphire, the amethyst isn't a stone, but a person," the Professor began to explain, "Someone who both you and I know very well."

A lump stuck itself in my throat. "Surely... No," I shook my head in denial, "Surely you don't mean Lilly."

The Professor swerved the car into the University's car park and pressed down on the brakes hard- I had to grip hold of the chair tightly to stop myself falling off. He was gritting his teeth and I could tell he was trying not to cry. The car came to a sudden halt, jerking us both forward, before the Professor jumped out of the car, slamming the door shut, with me close behind him. As we made our way down to the University, the Professor gathered up the courage to speak.

"Yes... Yes, it's Lilly."

-X-

Lilly's POV

"Sir, the anaesthetics wearing off."

I could hear voices, voices that I didn't recognise. The sound of them wavering above me and the vibrations of footsteps beneath me pulsing through. Beneath me, was the plastic bench that I'd been on when I'd been knocked out- they clearly hadn't moved me. There was still the sort of musky smell of earth that I recognised, too. Although four of my senses were working perfectly, one wasn't: sight. I couldn't see a thing. Not even black. Just nothing.

The voices carried on, and I tried to clasp onto them, to pull myself back into reality.

"Then give her some more!" a voice that belonged to Descole snapped back.

"I can't, Sir," the other voice, one that was slightly Scottish, objected.

"Why not?!" Descole demanded.

"It'll overdose her, Sir," the other man explained, "She won't wake up in time for midday tomorrow- if ever."

"Fine," Descole grumbled, "How long until midday now?"

"It's eight o'clock, Sir, meaning that we have sixteen hours until midday, tomorrow."

"Have you found out anything else yet?"

"Regretfully, no, Sir, I haven't," the man admitted.

"Well, carry on looking then!" Descole snapped, suddenly. I could hear the desperation and worry in his voice.

"Yes, Sir," the other man replied, clearly intimidated by the French villain.

"And has Nathaniel arrived yet? Has he got the stones?" Descole asked, hurriedly.

My eyes began to open, but I quickly shut them. It was like I was holding myself against their own will; they wanted to open and something was pushing them open. But I knew if I wanted to have any chance of escape, I'd have to make Descole think I was still unconscious- who knows what he'd do to me then. Then again, who knows what he'd do to anyone?

"Not yet, Sir, but he will," the Scottish man reassured.

"He better," Descole murmured, "You don't know how badly I've waited for this, Raymond. You don't know what I've done to get here- you don't know what I still will do, to get there."

And I knew perfectly well, that Descole was telling the truth.

-X-

Emmy's POV

"But... What?" I muttered, as the Professor sprinted off towards the University. I looked down, trying to make sense of what the Professor had just said, before realising that I'd most likely get them answered a lot quicker, if I were to ask the Professor himself. Besides, LIlly could be in danger. Once I'd shaken myself back into reality, I got out of the car and dashed off after him, "Professor?!"

He didn't turn back or stop to allow me to catch up, which of course, was perfectly acceptable and understandable under the current circumstances. However, I managed to catch up with him, once we reached the Historical Wing of Gressenheller University, and we'd arrived at our offices, he came to an abrupt halt. We both did.

Now, the Professor wasn't exactly the tidiest of the Professors, but there was no way on Earth that Rosa had allowed him to make this much of a mess. Books were strewn across the room, the table was laying on its side, shattered glass from the now broken window was scattered across the floorboards and artefacts that the Professor valued looked as if they'd been damaged beyond repair. All in all, it looked like a tsunami had swept up across the room and left the room in chaos.

Inspector Grosky was standing in the middle of the room, along with Dean Delmona and Rosa.

"Ah, Layton, Emmy," Grosky said, nodding at our presence, "You got the message."

"Professor, what's going on?" I asked, in a harsh whisper.

"I'll explain later, Emmy," The Professor whispered back, before speaking aloud to the Inspector, "Were any other offices or areas of the University broken into?"

Grosky shook his head. "Afraid not. I hate to say this, Professor, but you were targeted."

"Yes..." the Professor said to himself, "I thought as much."

Suddenly, he ran over to his desk and looked at the top shelf. His face turned white in a matter of seconds and he began searching frantically. I was thrown back in shock; I'd never seen the Professor like this before. On investigations, he wouldn't exactly be content, but he would be calm. Even when guns were facing us all, he'd remain perfectly in control. Which was why I knew he needed to stay calm, because it was that what kept us winning. And right now, we couldn't afford to lose this battle. We couldn't afford to lose Lilly.

* * *

**AN: I'm terrible! I know I am! But my internet's been messing up and I wrote most of this out, saved it, then my computer spazzed up and I lost half of this. Which really and truly did suck! DX So, I had to write it out again. **

**Just to let you guys know, I'll be on a bit of a HIATUS for 2 weeks soon. For my British readers, I'll be away for the Easter holidays. For the American or any other nationalities, I'll be away from Good Friday, to two Mondays after. Sorry! **

**Also, would any of you lovely people that I KNOW are reading mind leaving a quick review? I'll review back. And it'll make my day! :D**

**Finally, you can now follow Lilly on twitter! **The username is lilly_layton :D


	35. Three Out of Four 4

Lillyesque

Three Out of Four

* * *

Lilly's POV

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I was suffocating. I was being pulled; contorted; twisted; squeezed; squished and smothered all at once. Electric pulses of utter horror ran through me like neon lights. It felt like bullets were being pelted down and throughout my veins, muscles and bones. The pain started in my arms, before tracing down every cell in my body and attacking it. Ripping it apart, almost.

I knew my eyes were open, but I couldn't see a thing. Just darkness. I could picture myself, my body jerking, eyes wide and bloodshot. Mouth open in my attempts at screaming out in agony.

_This is it. _I thought. _I'm going to die._

Emmy's POV

"Professor, will you please explain what's going on?!" I pleaded, running over to the desk, where he stood. "How do they know the amethyst is Lilly? How is the amethyst Lilly? How has this break-in got anything to do with Lilly's disappearance?"

"Lilly's disappeared?!" Rosa cried, before the Professor could respond to any of my questions.

Grosky's eyebrows raised at this and he looked at Layton, gesturing for him to explain. The Professor gave a small, reluctant sigh, before realising that no matter how much it pained him to say it, he would have to. After all, being an Inspector, it would be good for him to know the whole story and about Lilly's disappearance.

Once the Professor had gone through the whole story- well, all that he'd told me- Rosa had turned white and I'd never seen Inspector Grosky look so confused before in his life. I'd thought that I'd be able to ask some of the questions that I'd wanted to know for far too long now. However, Grosky was the one who was first on the list to ask the questions. Luckily, he asked some of the questions that I wanted answering.

"But, Layton, how is Lilly a jewel?" Grosky asked.

"She isn't. There are three jewels, which aren't exactly normal jewels either, and when they're mixed with a certain gene, they form some sort of chemical, that forms a reaction with the heat energy from the sun," the Professor explained. Though I had to admit, at this point, I had lost it completely. "Lilly carries the gene; she's the only one left who does"

"What do you mean_? _How can you tell?" Grosky questioned.

"The amethyst allele is a dominative gene; meaning that either me or Claire had to carry the allele for it to be passed down to Lilly," the Professor went on, "Claire's family are the only line to carry the allele. Moreover, the allele is weak and can only be carried through the X chromosome, so it can only be carried by females."

"But boys' chromosomes are XY- that has an X," I pointed out, trying to remember as much as I could from my Biology O-Levels.

"Like I said, the allele is weak. It needs two Xs to be carried throughout someone's genes successfully. Although the X chromosome Lilly received from me, doesn't contain the amethyst gene, the one she received from Claire, did. When the two chromosomes joined, they sort of... multiplied. Well, rather, the X that didn't have the allele mutated into one that did, when it received the genetic code from the chromosome that did."

"Oh, for the Lord's sake!" Rosa exclaimed, standing up, "That poor girl's out there, somewhere, and all you can do is discuss gibberish! Shouldn't you be searching for her?!"

"Rosa... Please," the Professor said.

"The more we understand on this case, the more chance we have of finding Lilly," Grosky told her, grudgingly.

"Well, I don't see how that can be..." Rosa muttered, before sitting back down in her seat.

"Rosa, please..." the Professor repeated, as gently as he could- I could see it was taking a great amount of will to act as calm as he did.

Biting her lip, Rosa stood up and dusted off the skirt of her apron. "I'll go and make some tea," she announced, before walking out of the room.

Once she'd left, Inspector Grosky turned back the Professor. "Layton, how has this caused your daughter's kidnapping?"

The Professor took a deep breath before explaining. "The Cazzucula Islands would be one of the greatest discoveries to mankind. A whole world that many didn't even know existed- can you imagine? Whoever would find the Islands would go down in History."

"But you've had the four keys to the Islands for years!" the Inspector pointed out, "Why haven't you put them to use?"

"Because for one to obtain the amethyst, they need more than just Lilly," the Professor answered, "They need her blood. All of it."

"It would kill her, then..." I said, slowly.

"Yes," the Professor agreed, even slower than I had spoken.

"How long do we have?" Grosky asked.

"The poem says that the portal can only be opened at midday. For all we know, we have until twelve in the afternoon, tomorrow," the Professor answered, a lump forming in his throat.

"Well, then," Groksy said, standing up, "We should get to work."

The Professor nodded, gravely, before closing his eyes and keeping them tightly shut for a few seconds. He was blinking back tears. I'd heard him say more than once that a gentleman never makes a scene in public. But what did a gentleman do when his daughter was less than a day away from death?

* * *

**AN: This chapter is terrible, I know. Sorry. But hopefully, it explained a lot. I kinda went a bit scientific at some point, too... Hopefully that made it more realistic. :P**

**Thanks to all the new reviewers! It really made my day! :D And hello to the new readers, too. Fancy leaving a review? x**


	36. Three Out of Four 5

Lillyesque

Three Out of Four

_**The Professor, Emmy and the Inspector Grosky all stood in the Inspector's office, in Scotland Yard. The office was as untidy as it was filled with solemness and anxiety. This was it. Despite all their efforts, there was nothing they could have done. And this was it. This was how it was going to end. **_

_**The clock in the room read forty-five minutes past eleven. Fifteen minutes to twelve. Fifteen minutes to midday. Fifteen minutes until Lilly would be dead.**_

_**Strictly speaking, the Professor knew that it wasn't true; if whoever's plans were going ahead as they should, Lilly would have died from blood loss a matter of minutes ago. If someone wanted to drain all the blood from a person, it would take some time- it wasn't something that could be done quickly, especially with someone's blood who was so precious. That had been it. Lilly was dead. **_

_**However, fifteen minutes, would be the time when The Cazzucula Islands would arise from the sea. Although London was a matter of miles away from the coast, the evidence that the Islands had been revived would be clear. For something to rise above the ocean as big as The Cazzucula Islands, it would clearly be felt. More or less, there would be some sort of earthquake. Not a particularly strong one, but one strong enough to be felt. With his thoughts preoccupied, the Professor hadn't thought to notice this. **_

_**All three of them were feeling inconsolable. The Professor, it goes without saying why. The man who always had the answer to the puzzle, yet he did not have the answer as to how he could save his daughter. And, now, it was too late; she'd died. Somewhere where she was alone, frightened and in pain. The worse ways to die... He couldn't even save her from that. **_

_**He hadn't moved from the office's window in a matter of minutes. He wasn't sure when he'd move next, but, then again, he wasn't sure on a lot of things. Namely, how he was going to cope. He'd lost Claire eight years ago and now, he'd lost the one thing physical that reminded her of him; their daughter. Claire was young when she lost her life, but Lilly was even younger. She had only just turned fourteen. Fourteen years of her, was all she'd had of life. All he'd had of her. And, now, he'd never see her again. **_

_**Emmy hadn't known Lilly as long as the Professor had, of course, but she'd known her well enough. Really, she'd only known her a year, but that was long enough. As the Professor's assistant, she had often been giving the job of looking after Lilly and such- even though the Professor was sometimes not as reluctant as he always was, to the fact she was growing up and was independent enough to sometimes look after herself- meaning they'd grown particularly close. Even though they'd had a rusty start to getting along. **_

_**However, also as the Professor's Assistant, Emmy had the job of letting him down. And this was when he'd needed her to help the most; she'd needed to look harder into the enquiry of her disappearance. But, still, her best hadn't been enough. She'd let the Professor down and now, he'd lost his daughter. **_

_**Then, there was Inspector Grosky. Unlike the Professor and Emmy, he had barely ever spoken to Lilly, however, he had met her. But even if Lilly had been a girl he'd never even glanced upon, the guilt would still be there. He was the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard- the most important Police Force in England, which more or less made him the best Police Officer in England there was. Yet, he still couldn't find Lilly. Yes, there had been a time limit- and a remarkably short one at that- but with such a weight on his shoulders, he should have been able to do it. But he didn't. And now, the child was dead. **_

_**He silently vowed to himself that the criminal would go down for this. They would not get away, nor would they pass as innocent in the trial. They'd be locked away for the rest of their life.**_

_**The repetitive 'tick-tock' of the clock in the room increased for a second as the two hands met. And that was it; it was midday. **_

_**The three people said nothing, but knew that now, it really was over. The case was closed. They all embraced the shaking ground, but...**_

_**There was nothing. Nothing at all. **_

_**None of them thought anything to it and the Professor knew that it would take a minute or so for The Cazzucula Islands to reach the sea-level that would force the lands to tremble, but his thoughts weren't on the less important side effects of the Cazzucula Islands discovery. His daughter was dead. And he had failed in the job to find her; in the job to keep her by his side; in the job to keep her safe. **_

_**But, then, a minute passed. And so did another. As did another. And they continued to pass, until ten past. And until twenty past. And another ten minutes went and it was half past. And in that half an hour, nothing had happened. None of them had spoken, but more importantly, there was no sign at all of The Cazzucula Islands rising above the ocean. **_

"_**She isn't dead."**_

_**With the Professor's silence having lasted nearly an hour, neither Emmy nor Inspector Grosky had been expecting his comment. **_

"_**What do you mean?" Emmy asked, carefully.**_

"_**The Cazzucula Islands... They're not here yet, if they'd received her blood successfully, the Islands would have been revived by now- we would have felt it in an earthquake of some sorts," the Professor explained, "We have another chance." **_

"_**How long?" Inspector Grosky questioned, quickly jumping to his professional side, from his sentimental side.**_

"_**It could be any day," the Professor replied, he was being firm but it was clear he was growing happier, "But that doesn't matter. We have another chance. And this time, we won't fail." **_

"_**But we still have less than twenty-four hours, Professor," Emmy pointed out. **_

"_**Well, then," the Professor began, "We better get started." **_

_**-X-**_

_**Descole and his butler, Raymond, stood in their lair staring down at the girl's body before them. She was limp, pale and clearly in pain. Weak and vulnerable, yet unforgiving. Her eyes were shut and every piece of evidence there was indicated that she was dead. Except she wasn't, she was still alive and like a pig for slaughter, she would be kept alive until the appropriate moment. **_

"_**She has to be awake for the process," Raymond explained to his Master, "There's no other way." **_

"_**How long will it take for her to awaken?" Descole questioned, pacing up and down his hideout, in deep thought. **_

"_**I can't say, Sir. She's in a coma. It could be a few days, a few months, a few years..." **_

"_**A few years!" Descole exclaimed, "We can't wait that long!" **_

"_**It's rare that a girl her age will last in a coma that long, Sir," Raymond continued, ignoring his Master's outburst, "We mustn't focus on waking her up. We need to focus on keeping her alive. After all, it won't work if she's ill and her blood is either carrying bacterial or viral infections, or if it's week from nutrition." **_

"_**Well, then, what do you suggest we do?" **_

"_**We have no choice but to keep the girl alive- make sure she received fluid and nutrition and such," Raymond answered. **_

"_**Well, then," Descole muttered, "That is what we shall do. She will wake up, Raymond. The Cazzucula Islands will be mine... Whatever the cost."**_

* * *

**AN: Right, hello, everyone! Yes, I'm back! I'm alive! **

**A bit of explaining as to why this is bold and in third person, would that be useful? Yes, right, then! The reason for that is because since this is a notebook/diary being found by Lilly's children when she's older that she's written, it has to be from the POV and she has to be at the scene to write it (obviously). So, other than Claire's/ her children's entries, if it can't be written from Lilly's POV, it will be written in bold, italics and third person. This also means Lilly's children won't get to read these bits- I'm just putting it in, since it makes things HEAPS easier for you lovelies to understand. :)**

**Reviews are lovely! Can we get up to 200 for this chapter? 200th reviewer gets a special shout out! :D xx**


	37. Three Out of Four 6

Lillyesque

Three Out of Four

I hadn't exactly been expecting to wake up, if that makes sense. For a while now, I'd been certain I was dead. Only, not quite dead. I'd been dreaming. I'd been aware of things going on around me. Sometimes, I could hear. Sometimes I could feel. But I could never see. I was engulfed in something too dark to be black; the unknown.

The times when I could feel were the worst; they were the times I wanted it to end. During those times, I felt like I was floating and the weight of my own body was pulling me down- like I was being torn in two. My limbs were being stretched, ripped and sliced in all directions. Again and again and again. Sharp stings ran ll through me, but I was slightly numb meaning that I didn't know whereabouts the pain in my body exactly was. My legs. Arms. Chest. Head. It didn't matter; it was just pain.

Thoughts about what was going on ran through my mind and after several hypothesise ran through my mind, I decided on one. That I was dying. It was a long and slow death. Unless- another hypothesis- when you died, time slowed down. I wasn't exactly good at science, but I'd been told by most of my teachers that I was creative and imaginative (I just had difficulty getting my ideas down on paper), and I could easily come up with ideas- even when in agony- on how that could be possible. When we died, our organs failed. The brain, which was what kept track of time and such, was struggling to hold up, and, so, time could easily be going much slower for me than it was for everyone else. Also, that would make sense if my senses kept coming and going. For me, it felt like it had been weeks- if not months. But, really, it could have only been a matter of minutes.

From what I'd gotten so far of death, it most definitely was _not _peaceful.

I wasn't even scared of death, anymore (well, I can't really say that I ever have been. To be honest, I'd never really thought about it). I wanted it. I wanted the pain to end. Besides, if I there _was _some sort of afterlife, then I would be with Mum. I could tell her how much I remembered and missed her. How much I loved her. How much Dad remembered, missed and...

I was most definitely not dead, nor dying.

My heart was beating fast. I was breathing rapidly. And I was sweating. I was alive.

My eyes shot open as sudden as the first glimpse of the sun over a valley or hill side. I was awake. And as I took in the scenery around me, I knew more and more what was going and more and more recollections flooded into my aching head. Descole had me. Descole had captured me... I just didn't know why.

Sitting up, I recalled the room to be the same one I had first awoken in, when Descole had kidnapped me. It looked like some sort of futuristic lair, crossed with a dungeon. Some sort of chamber. The metal box hadn't been touched, but looked even more torturing than before. With the thousands of wires that connected to a single box and a chair in the middle... It obviously did something. And it goes without saying that the chair was for me.

As I regained the energy to sit up, I noticed a tube stuck into my arm with a needle. An IV drip. For a second, I wondered where on earth Descole had gotten an IV drip from. But, their were much more pressing issues on my mind. For starters, where was Descole?

Pulling the tube out of my arm- releasing a small amount of blood in the process- I dropped down from the plank and my bare feet collided with the stone floor. Looking down, I noticed I was still in the same purple dress as I'd been before. Only it was ripped and dirty. I wondered how, since there was no way I could have moved from the bed, but, again, there was much more important things to think about. Staring at my surroundings further, there were two doors- one either side of the room. One was ajar. The other was closed, but without a lock on the door (which was incredibly stupid of Descole, when you thought about it). Walking over to the open door and hiding behind it, incase someone- anyone- entered through it, I listened in closely.

Footsteps were approaching. And so were voices.

"She should awake soon, Master," the Scottish voice that I recalled said.

Descole's voice spoke next. "Good. It's been six months since she went into that coma, I doubt I can wait much longer. I _need _the Islands, Raymond."

* * *

_**The Professor had barely slept in six months. If he weren't assisting Scotland Yard in finding Lilly, he was conducting his own investigation, along with Emmy and Luke. In fear of their Goddaughter, Clark and Brenda had been helping as much as they could with the investigation. Brenda had created posters, with Lilly's photo, description and number to call if they knew any information, and although nothing had come of them, the Professor was thankful all the same. Clark had joined in with Layton's investigations; with and without the police. But, still, it had made no difference. **_

_**They all knew that everyday could be the last one they had the chance of saving her and, so, they worked as hard as they could every day. But, still, nothing happened. The kidnapper had obviously covered his tracks very well. **_

_**Until, one day, the phone rang. **_

"_**Hello, Layton residence," the Professor said down the receiver, his voice heavy with lack of sleep and nutrition. **_

"_**Professor Layton? Inspector Grosky, here," he said down the phone, "We have news on your daughter." **_

* * *

Six months. I had been there for six months.

I found it ironic, really. If Descole hadn't have said that, I would have thought quicker and managed to escape before they came into the room, if I hadn't been so shocked. Six months. I had been there for six months.

The two figures walked through the door. Descole and his 'butler', Raymond, who I recognised from Misthallery. Before they saw me, they saw the empty bed.

"Wha..." Descole began , before spinning around and seeing me, trembling. "You!"

He jumped forward, his hands reaching out, trying to grab me like a cat would to its prey. Though tired and weak, I reacted fast and with stamina I wasn't sure I had. However they'd kept me alive for the past six months, they'd done it well. Clearly, so they would have me with as much strength possible. I didn't even want to think about the drugs they'd have pumped into my bloodstream, whilst I was in the coma.

Dodging to the side, Descole crashed into the wall, with a crash. He let out a groan, but soon turned to face my whimpering figure and growled. My eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape route. If only I had Dad's puzzle-solving logic. But, I didn't need it. Not really.

The two doors. The open one, which I'd hid behind, was impossible to get to; I'd collide with my death before I got through the door. Although, the other door was closed, I was certain it wasn't locked. What use would it have been to them if locked from the outside? I knew nothing about where it led to, but it was my best hope.

Skidding against the cold floor, I leapt towards the metal door and pulled. I'd barely opened it, before I rushed through into a colder, darker, murkier tunnel.

Without any idea but one, I did what I only knew to do. I ran.

* * *

**AN: Right, yes, look at me! I'm back! :D **

**Reviews have been MARVELLOUS! Special thanks to _Abitat Eco, _who was the 200th reviewer! :D**

**But, of course, thanks still goes to the other lovely reviewers: _Amy Angel Allen, Mephileshomer, luvstwilight4ever _and _nellenora the explorer. _:D **

**Keep the reviews coming! Two chapters of this part left! :D **

**x**


	38. Three Out of Four 7

Lillyesque

Three Out of Four

I ran. Ran. Ran Ran. This was it. My chance to escape. To get away from Descole and get back home. I darted through the tunnel, desperate to get away with fear taking over every single one of my thoughts.

It was dark and dirty in the tunnel and I was ducking every few seconds to avoid getting cobwebs in my face. There's a damp smell in the air and the revolting smell of sewer water. I could hear rats squeaking and scurrying, normally I'd be disgusted at this and be squealing and screaming, but right now it was the last thing on my mind.

The distinctive loud, bang of a gunshot was not to far behind me. Descole wasn't running. Why should he have to? I mean, I was too tired and sick to run fast anyway. Any other day, I could have gotten away from here, but after being tortured, I still writhing in pain and as a result I couldn't run anywhere near as fast as I usually could. I hold the school record for hundred metre sprint and the eight hundred metre long distance, but I'd just ran about fifty metres and I was already out of breath.

My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty and my legs felt like a box of weights had been dropped on them. Not to mention the agonising pain all over my body, which was from Descole torturing me. The pain had been- and still was- unbearable. Some type of electricity was shot through me and I could still feel the paths the shots took through my body... Traced in my body permanently.

There were some more fires from the gun, and instead of motivating me to run faster (or at least try) they seemed to discourage me. I'd never heard of a gunshot be manipulating before. Maybe it's because I'm terrified enough as it is and each sound of a bullet pouncing the air, made me realise that one sharp hit would kill me instantly and I wasn't well enough to get away, maybe letting the bullets hit was easier than getting away from them and failing. Creating false hope was something that's completely unnecessary.

Even though I didn't think it was a good thing to do, I kept running. What's the point in stopping when I've already pushed myself this hard to get this far. I couldn't give up now. I knew it was near impossible, but I knew somehow that I wouldn't die today. I suppose I had always felt that if something life changing would happen that day, I'd feel it. I felt a lot of things right now, fear, pain, nerves, anxious, but I had no strange, unknown feelings.

I came to a lighter part in the tunnel, and it was a sort of room, I suppose. There was a machine- some type of generator probably- attached to the wall, and smoke was coming from it. There was litter down there too, a few smashed bottles and old newspapers. I wasn't planning on stopping to look at more details of the room and would have kept on running, but I fell.

There was a bump in the middle of the 'room'. I didn't see it and I tripped and fell right down onto the some glass. I heard a snap and more pains began shooting through me, only this time it was inside my leg and my hand, from where the glass cut into it.

I bit my lip to keep me from screaming, but tears brimmed in my eyes. Why had I stopped myself from screaming? This tunnel has one route and Descole isn't going to stop looking for me any time soon. I was in such pain and discomfort I didn't see why I was trying to get away. Death would get it over quicker and forever, like a safeguard of some kind. It would protect me from any type or fear again.

Footsteps came from the direction I'd came and I saw Descole slowly approach me. I looked up at him, not feeling intimidated, but a tiny bit scared and relieved. Strange, they're not normally two emotions that go particularly well together.

Then, I felt it. Everything was different. A new atmosphere came over me and surrounding me, it was like I was submerged in a blanket of new thoughts. Death. I knew it, I felt it. I knew I was about to die. These were my last moments. This was it. The end of everything.

I looked up at Descole. His face was emotionless, even if he didn't have his mask on, I doubt he would show any feelings. Other than triumph maybe. The motives were something I would like to know too, I had just assumed it was something to do with revenge against my Father, but maybe it's something different. Who knows? Surely I never will. I didn't want to ask, because right now I doubted either of us were in the mood for a civilised conversation between each other.

I looked away from him, I didn't want to see the man kill me whilst he did it. I saw a smashed mirror against the wall, and looked at myself, for what I thought would be the last time. My dark brown hair was tangled and highlighted with my own blood. Cuts and slices were dotted around my face and blood was pouring down the side of my head, which I didn't remember doing. My purple dress was ripped, muddy and covered in even more blood. My nails were all chipped and dirt was stuck under them and my feet were bare and grubby. I looked horrible, but didn't care.

Descole raised the gun and I saw his eyes stare at me, in a deafening, grave way. I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath and took in everything. Even the extreme pain I was in. I had to take notice of everything, know what life felt like. I wanted to know what it felt like to_have_ existed.

My thoughts drifted off and I found myself reminiscing about my Mother, Claire. She had dies when I was six years old. At least now, or rather very soon, I'd be with her again. There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about her. If I was ever given one wish, it would always be to bring my Mother back. Even if it meant I'd have to die, I'd trade with her. Now, I wouldn't have too, I'm going to join her.

"Lilly!" I heard a voice exclaim and fast, frantic footsteps approached.

I opened my eyes.

"Dad!" I cried," Emmy! Inspector Grosky!"

Three people came out of the shadows. My father closely followed by Emmy, his assistant and Inspector Grosky, the chief of police. I'd been missing six weeks, of course the police would be involved. I'd thought so much about getting away myself, I hadn't actually thought about people on the outside world trying to find me. Dad looked desperate to see me and help me, but the second he lay eyes on me, I could tell he was furious, in the state I was in, and worse when he saw Descole pointing the gun at my head. Emmy looked angry too, but was scared herself too. Inspector Grosky, do I even have to explain? I swear he only ever shows one expression.

"Haha! Layton, just in time to see your poor, little girl die," Descole taunted.

Dad gritted his teeth and looked over from me to Descole, then back to me.

"Lilly... Are you alright?" Emmy asked me, coming over.

"Make a move towards the girl and she dies!" Descole announced.

Emmy stopped and slowly went backwards, whilst still staring at me with a look of pity and despair.

"I'm fine," I lied.

Seeing Dad made me cry more. I wanted to just crawl over to dad and cry. I was terrified. I didn't know what would happen. I didn't know if I would die, someone else would,or everyone would survive. Not knowing scares me more than knowing. Even if it's the worst things possible.

Descole came over to me and put the gun to my head. Straight onto my head. Touching me. My breathing sped up and I felt my heart speed up by miles. The gun clicked, the bullets were ready to be fired into me.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Dad yelled.

"Get off the girl at once! I'm arresting you, in the name of Scotland yard!" Inspector Grosky shouted, coming over to Descole and me.

"No!" Emmy shouted.

Grosky hadn't noticed his mistake in coming over. I had though. Just as Inspector Grosky grabbed Descole, I collapsed on the floor.

BANG!

The gun went off. I saw the bullet fire across the room hit the wall and stop. Then there was a small crash, the gun being dropped, seconds after there were footsteps before they fading down the tunnel.

I saw Dad and Emmy's feet run over to me. Cautiously, I sat up. They both sat beside me, and dad pulled me against him. I fell against him and wept hard.

"It's alright Lilly. It's ok, dear," Dad comforted and kissed my forehead," You're safe. Everything's fine."

"Dad..." I said between tears," I was … so scared. It was ...horrible."

"I know, love. It's fine now. Descole's gone, and you're fine. You're safe, I swear," Dad promised.

"I'm going to go and help the Inspector," Emmy said.

I felt Dad look up at her and nod, and I heard her footsteps fade and disappear too.

"Lilly, come on, we've got to get you out of here now," Dad told me," Are you hurt?"

I nodded.

"Where?" Dad asked.

"My leg's broken I think. I was running... Then I... I I slipped and fell and..." I began crying again.

"I know, Lilly. It's okay. Don't worry, I promise you are fine now," Dad said with a smile, that I could tell was forced,"Now come on, let's get you up."

I leaned on Dad for support and he gripped me tight and we walked- very slowly- out of the tunnel.

I was safe. I was going home. Everything was going to be all right.

* * *

**AN: And... There we have it! Three Out of Four is finito! :D **

**Big thanks to all you lovely reviewers! **

**Any of you have any ideas for a new pen name that I may need, due to a rising number of stalking relatives? I'm stumped for ideas! **

**x**

**Next chapter from Claire's POV! :D **


	39. Namesake

Age: 3 days

Date: 8/6/1949

I smiled down at the baby in my arms, as she stirred in her sleep. Through the blankets, I felt her fists move against my chest as she tossed and turned. As I felt her body heat penetrate through the sheets, I wondered if she was dreaming. Since she was beginning to stir more, I positioned her closer to my breast- just incase she was hungry- and felt her felt her small body weight adjust to the surroundings.

"There you go, sweetheart," I murmured.

I was close to falling asleep, since I'd been very tired since she was born and hadn't had much time to sleep. It always seemed that when she was awake, I was asleep, meaning I'd have to keep away from a slumber to feed or change her, or I was awake when she was asleep. Of course, I could put her down in the crib whilst she was sleeping and allow myself to sleep, but I found myself unable to let her out of my arms. She was just... Perfect.

Throughout my pregnancy, I'd been worried all the time about what would happen when the baby was born. I'd heard a lot about post-natal depression and, since I wasn't married like most mothers, I'd thought it would become a problem I'd have to deal with, but it hadn't. Since she'd been born, I'd been nothing but overwhelmed with positive emotions. And looking down at her, I wondered how I'd ever been scared about being a Mother.

She was just... Beautiful. Her face was round and still pink from the birth, but shaped like an angel. She had only opened her eyes for the first time that morning, but I could still remember the beautiful, shimmering sky blue in them (Hershel had said she had my eyes). She didn't have much hair on her head yet, just a couple of strands of dark brown hair, but her eyelashes were long and curly.

She was my little angel and I found it hard to believe I'd been terrified of her!

A knock on the front door broke my thoughts.

"Hershel!" I called towards the kitchen. "Can you get the door?"

When I didn't get a reply, I rolled my eyes, before carefully getting up, as to not hurt the baby. Walking over to the front door, I knew who it would be; they'd said they were coming. My parents.

When I'd told them I was expecting, Mum hadn't exactly been as happy as other soon-to-be Grandmothers were. In fact, she was fuming. Which I found extremely ironic. She hadn't wanted me to go to University and had wanted me to become a housewife instead. So, when I told her she was going to be a grandmother, I wasn't that worried. But then, she kicked off. Well, actually, to be truthful, she'd been fine at first. It wasn't until she'd asked one question: when's the wedding?

Then, I had to explain to her calmly that there wasn't going to be a wedding.

It was most likely, one of the most terrifying moments in my life. It was like a volcano eruption, a dangerous one at that too. She didn't calm down until after I'd left. Dad, unexpectedly, took the news a lot better than Mum. I say unexpectedly, because he had been the one who wanted me to go to University. In fact, if it wasn't for his funding,I wouldn't of been able to go. I assumed it was his medical degree that stopped him throwing such a fuss as Mum. My theory being proved even more correct when he kept ringing me every now and ten making sure both me and the baby were okay.

After the birth, they were both the first people I'd told that the baby had been born and immediately, Dad launched into a bundle of questions- most ones that I didn't understand. Against Mum's wishes- I assumed- Dad promised that they'd visit in three days, when he could get off work.

And now, here they were.

With the baby in my arms, I walked over to the door and used one hand to undo the latch, then pulled the door open. Sure enough, there stood both of my parents.

Dad was short and slightly round, with a bald head and brown moustache. Mum was slightly taller than Dad, with a lean frame and red hair like mine. Also like me, she wore glasses and had blue eyes. Everyone always said that we looked the same (which we did) but otherwise, were completely different (which we also were). Mum was very traditional and also seemed to for every stereotype of a woman there was- excluding the blonde hair and use of make-up and fashion- she didn't work and spent her days cleaning and cooking. Whereas I wanted to work, be independent and do things for myself.

"Claire, my girl," Dad beamed.

"Father," I greeted back, carefully leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek.

"Ah, and this is the new addition to the family, is it? We didn't get much chance to speak on the phone, I don't even know whether I have a grandson or daughter," Dad went on.

I glanced down at the baby in the white blankets and shook my head. Was it not obvious, even with neutral sheets, that it was a girl?

"Come on in," I gestured, leaning against the door to push it back, so they could come in. Once they'd stepped inside, I called for Hershel and it wasn't long before he came in, through the kitchen door.

"Ah, I thought I heard voices. It's foot to see you again, Mr and Mrs Foley," Hershel nodded, shaking their hands.

"And good to see you, my dear boy," Dad nodded, shaking his hand firmly.

"Pleasure," Mum nodded, bitterly. It was obvious she didn't approve of any of this.

"Would either of you like a drink?" Hershel questioned.

"Well, if you don't mind, a cup of tea would be nice," Dad answered.

"And what about you, Mrs Foley? Can I get you anything?" Hershel offered.

"Tap water," Mum replied, just as bitter.

"Of course," Hershel nodded, before making his way back over to the kitchen.

"Come through to the living room," I gestured, shutting the front door, then making my way through into the living room, glad that there was no door leading to the front room.

They both sat down on the two armchairs in the room, Dad with a smile, Mum with a frown, whilst I took the settee.

"So, then," Dad began,"Tell us about our grandchild then."

"You have a granddaughter," I told them, smiling. I even saw Mum's lips nearly curl into a smile. Dad, on the other hand, was beaming.

"Has she got a name yet?" Dad questioned.

"Amelia, isn't it?" Mum assumed, "You always said that if you had a daughter, you'd call her Amelia."

"Actually, she's named after you, Mum," I replied, with a smile.

Mum's eyes-widened, but I couldn't tell if she was happy, or shocked. "You... You called her Marie?"

"Not quite, it's hyphenated," I explained.

"Amelia-Marie?" Mum queried, disbelievingly.

I cringed at the name; it didn't sound right. "Not Amelia, Lillian. Lillian-Marie Rebecca Layton," I told them, "Rebecca being her middle name, of course."

"Layton? Not Foley?" Dad asked, seeming confused.

"Of course not," Mum shook her head, "If they did that, when Hershel and Claire get married, the child will have neither of her parents' surnames."

"Actually..." I began, but decided not to continue. Quickly, I changed the sentence, "Would either of you like to hold her?"

"I'll take her," Mum declared, surprisingly, "After all, if she's my name sake, she needs to live up to it."

"To what?" Dad questioned.

"The name of course!" Mum exclaimed, tutting, "Give her here, Claire."

Even though I was now twenty-one, I did as she said, getting up and going over to Mum and handing her the baby. I was in a complete state of shock; if they'd told me to jump out of the window, I would have. As Mum took the baby into her hands, she rocked her gently and began telling her a fairy tale.

"I'm erm... Going to go and see if Hershel needs any help," I excused myself.

"You do that, my girl," Dad nodded.

Making my way into the hallway, I shook my head slightly, amused. Maybe babies really did change everything?


	40. Oranges and Lemons

Age: 20

Date: 16th August 1969

When I'd realised I was going to have a baby, I knew it wasn't going to be easy. In fact, I'd been absolutely terrified and adamant that I didn't want a baby. However, when he was born, that had all changed.

I hadn't just wanted him to be in my arms, I'd needed him in my arms. I needed him to be safe, I needed him to know I loved him.

It wasn't until he'd actually been born, however, that I realised that. They always say that a woman becomes a Mother when she becomes pregnant and a man becomes a Father when he sees his son or daughter for the first time. But for me and Jack, it had been the opposite. I'd been terrified and adamant that I didn't want a baby, whereas Jack had been adamant that we could make it through this. And now, we had made it through.

I'd made it through. I'd thrown up every morning. I'd dealt with not being able to walk properly. I'd dealt with being hungry, but finding it impossible to find something that I could stomach. I'd gotten fat. I'd given up everything; my job, my body, my health. All for something I didn't want.

And then, I'd been told that it was between the baby and me. That was when I'd began to care. Or, rather, realised I cared.

I'd been lying on my bed at home, pain striking through me every twenty minutes to half an hour. Two midwife's were there, when something went wrong. They'd muttered things so quietly, I could barely make out their sentence. Except for a few words: infection, threaten and hospital. And then, I'd been thrown into a panic of realisation.

It was me, or someone else. And it didn't matter that that someone else hadn't been seen by anyone yet. What mattered was that it was my flesh and blood. My son or daughter.

I'd been rushed to hospital and then had been forced to make the decision. I'd barely thought about it and I already knew the answer. I would die, as long as it meant my baby would survive. I couldn't live on knowing that my own child was dead because of me. However, it wasn't just that, I really did love the baby. I hadn't realised it until then, but I did.

And then, the baby was born. I didn't see him, but had heard him cry. Though it was like he was growing further and further away as I slipped into a state of unconsciousness that I was sure I wouldn't come out of. But I had. I'd woken up healthy and had a beautiful baby boy.

And now, three days later, I was home. What's more, I couldn't spend anytime apart from the baby and had been cradling him or cooing over him- or both- every second of the day. Except for when I was asleep, of course, which was where this all started.

I'd fallen asleep in the afternoon; the only time I got to sleep was when the baby was sleeping. When I woke up to the sound of a soft, but untuneful version of nursery rhyme and a whimper- that may as well have been the singing.

Frowning, I sat up and looked around the bedroom. I quickly noticed Jack holding the baby and singing to him.

"Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clements," Jack sang- nowhere near in tune, "You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martins."

The baby continued to cry. Jack hasn't noticed I'd woken up yet, so carefully, I got up and walked over to them. The floor was carpeted and the bed was sturdy, meaning neither senses my presence. Unless the baby did, because of the smell of my milk. I joined in with the song as I got up and walked over, which was when Jack noticed me.

"When will you pay me," I sang quietly, with Jack. As soon as he heard me singing, he stopped and turned around. I continued to sing, whilst he stared, "Say the bells of old Bailey."

"When I grow rich," Jack continued, as I reached over to him, hugging his shoulder, as we both stared down at our son, "Say the bells of Shoreditch."

"When will that be," I sang, "Say the bells of Stepney?"

"I do not know," Jack went on, "Says the great bell of Bow."

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed," I sang.

"And here comes a chop..."

"Jack!" I cried, jumping back.

"What?" he questioned, looking at me as if I were crazy, "What's wrong?"

"You can not sing that to our son!" I hissed.

"What? Why not?" he asked, confused.

"Because it's about being executed for not paying off your debts!" I exclaimed. Sensing the anger, the baby began to cry. I shook my head as Jack handed him to me, to shush. "There, there, darling," I whispered, before turning back to Jack.

"My Mother sang it to me- and all my brothers and sisters. It's tradition, Lil," Jack protested.

"Yeah..." I muttered, calming down as I realised what was happening, "Yeah, I'm sorry, it's fine... Just..."

"Protective Mothering instinct?"

"Yes," I smiled, weakly, "I'm sorry, it's just... You know, after what happened."

"Oh, Lil," Jack shook his head kindly, before putting his arm round me. The baby noticed things calming down and his cries subsided. "Love, honestly. You're fine know; you both are. And you know it as well as I do."

"Yeah," I agreed, "It's just... After what happened, I can't lose him, Jack, I really can't."

"And we won't," Jack reassured, "But even so, singing Oranges and Lemons isn't going to increase the chances of anything happening."

"I know," I sobbed, small tears running down my face, "It's just, well, he's so young; he doesn't need to be brought any closer to the concept of death."

Jack rubbed my shoulder and shook his head again. "I understand," he said, "From now on, we'll skip the last line."

"Good," I smiled, "But, Jack, we still need to decide on one thing."

"What's that?" he asked.

"His name," I replied, "And no, we are not calling him Jack the second."

"I never said we should."

"No, but you implied it."

"Well, what do you think we should call him then?"

"Well, I've always liked the names Jacob, James and Jasper- but Jacob's your brother's name, so we can cut that out," I thought aloud.

"So Jasper or James?" Jack said.

"He doesn't look like a Jasper," I pointed out.

"My thoughts exactly," Jack agreed.

"So, then, James it is," I smiled, "James Jack Harrison."

"Perfect," Jack smiled down at the baby in my arms.

"Oranges and lemons..." I began to sing, "Say the bells of St. Clements. You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martins. When will you pay me, say the bells of old Bailey. When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch. When will that be, say the bells of Stepney. I do not know, says the great bell of Bow." At this point, James fell asleep, so I quickly lay him back in his cot, before whispering the last line, "And here comes a candle, to light you to bed."


	41. You Love Me Really

Lillyesque

You Love Me Really

Age: 15 years old

Date: March 1965

Games?: **Set after** CV but **before** PB/DB. **Spoilers** for CV.

When Dad had adopted Flora, I'd been ecstatic. I'd always wanted a brother or sister, but was pretty sure I'd never have one. Dad didn't seem to go out enough to meet anybody new and it wasn't like he wanted another partner, anyway. Either way, everytime Dad would begin to get close to a woman, I would have some sort of breakdown to stop Dad ever going within eye-shot of her again.

This time, though, I'd gotten the part of the deal I wanted; a sibling and not a new Mother. And what's more, a sister who was only a year younger than me. Well, a year and a half technically. And although I already had a brother, we didn't always see eye to eye. Besides, Alphendi was doing as much as he could to avoid contact with us completely. However, it didn't always work.

And, one day, when I was beginning to get fed up of having a sister, I'd appeared on Alphendi's doorstep. I knew that even he didn't have the guts to turn me down in the pouring rain. So, one Tuesday afternoon, when it was pouring down with rain, I took the bus going to the opposite side of London and knocked on the door of my half-brother's flat.

He opened it with a grumble and frowned when he saw it was me. I grinned.

"What do you want?" he asked, groaning. In all fairness, he did look very tired.

"Well..." I began, "It's a long story. Can I come in?"

Alphendi hesitated and rolled his eyes, "Fine," he replied, with lack of enthusiasm, "But you have to be quiet. I've got work to do."

"Suits me," I smiled, as Alphendi backed away inside his flat and I swiftly followed him in.

Pushing a bunch of papers off the settee, I sat down. The cushions were soft and barely stuffed, so when you sat down, they would sink down deep. My brother sat down on the wooden chair at his desk and rummaged through a heap of papers. I peered over curiously.

"What are you doing?" I asked, in a sing-song voice.

"Work," he replied, flatly.

"What _work_?" I quizzed.

"Hard work."

"Maybe I can help..." I suggested, standing up from the messy and lumpy settee.

Alphendi snorted and looked up at me, sniggering. "Lillian, you don't even know the difference between cells and particles. How can you write a two thousand word paper on DNA analysis?"

" I do too!" I exclaimed, defensively, "Particles are for living things and cells are for objects!"

Alphendi rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back towards his work. I frowned and collapsed back onto the settee, glaring at him, as he pushed his red hair back out of his face, so he could concentrate on his work. I frumpishly leaned back on the head of the settee and stared up at the damp ceiling- as a student, Alphendi couldn't afford pleasant accommodation.

"You love me really," I teased. Alphendi didn't react. That pretty much crossed the line for me- sometimes I didn't know why I even bothered. "I'm leaving. I came here to get away from an annoying sibling- not find another one."

I stood up and slinged my school bag over my shoulder. And then, Alphendi did react. He put the pen down and gave a curious expression, before turning to face me. "What do you mean?" he asked, "Annoying sibling? Luke?"

I sighed. I'd forgotten that Alphendi didn't know about Flora yet. "Dad's adopted this girl, who we found on one of his cases," I told him, "I mean... She was great at first, but she's so... Needy and clingy."

"Wow," he said at first, "I didn't... I mean, that makes sense, it's just the sort of thing he'd do, I suppose, but... Wow."

"I know what you mean," I agreed, crossing my arms, "And, Dad's been all... Ignoring me and... Argh!"

Alphendi shook his head, slightly and gave me a sympathetic smile. I gave him a tiny smile back, even though I was very grateful. No one had shown me any compassion at all when I'd complained about Flora. Instead, they would tell me to stop being selfish and to just 'be a good sister', which was (in my opinion) stupid advise! How could I be a better sister? I didn't even know what a good sister was or did.

"She probably just wants to feel like she belongs," Alphendi told me, "It's fair enough if you're angry, sis, but... Try not to take it out on her."

"Since when did you turn into a family counsellor?" I queried.

"Well, I have an A star in psychology, A-level grade," he replied.

"Fair enough," I conceded, "But... It feels like Dad's ignoring me. Yesterday, he told me off- which he never does- because I wouldn't show Flora the shopping centre. And I have too much work to get done. I mean, with my o-levels coming up and everything..."

"Ah, yes, how are they going?" Alphendi asked, for once, looking interested.

"Well, the optional subjects: textiles, music, art and French are going great," I answered, "But it's the core subjects I can't do."

"English, maths and science?" Alphendi checked. I nodded, "Well, look, have you got any homework for those subjects now?"

"Yes! Loads of revision- but I don't even know what I'm supposed to be revising," I sighed. Some days I didn't even know why I even bothered revising. After all, what was the point? I was going to fail no matter what.

"Get your work out," Alphendi told me, "Come on, I'll help you."

"What...?" I stuttered. Alphendi had never offered to help me with my work before. He'd never attended any of my shows, school or out of school productions. Why was he offering to help me now.

"Come on," he repeated.

"O...K," I said, reaching into my bag and taking out my science books and walking over towards my brother's desk. "Are you sure?"

"Look, Lil," he began, "You're my little sister. And, yeah, you're annoying, but you're still my sister."

"See," I grinned, "You do love me really."

"Sometimes."

* * *

**AN: Just a short drabbley one. :)**

**Thanks to Mephileshomer and Melody The Superhero for reviewing!**

**It would mean a lot if the people reading this reviewed... Please? I'm hoping to hit 220 reviews in the next couple of chapters...? I review back :)**

**x**


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